


Voldemort's Chosen One, Part 2

by severusvonstiltskin



Series: Voldemort's Chosen One [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 87,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severusvonstiltskin/pseuds/severusvonstiltskin
Summary: Chosen. Chosen to be a slave. Chosen to have the Dark Lord's child. Chosen to never have a life beyond what the Dark Lord commands.Voldemort fears Harry will discover his Horcrux magic. So of course, he has a backup plan. Charlotte Rodgers is this backup plan.Having been born to a woman just prior to her imprisonment in Azkaban, Charlotte has never known her parents. But she had been chosen by Voldemort to bear him a child in hopes that he can implement more of the Dark Arts to come back through this child. When Voldemort returns, Charlotte is sent to Hogwarts to be protected by none other than Severus Snape, the only Death Eater inside the castle walls, while awaiting the proper time to have the child.But Charlotte will do anything to escape her fate.
Series: Voldemort's Chosen One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620430
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

With a loud _pop!_ , I land on a dirty street lined with dilapidated brick houses. It’s dark out, the only light being the streetlights and the moonlight. “Come on!”

It takes all my willpower not to attack. My wrist is seized, and I am dragged through the streets, nearly stumbling with every step, until we reach the front door of one particular house. Maybe this was not the best idea I’ve ever had (I tend to have a lot of bad ideas). Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. “Let go of me!”

My mother turns to me, fury in her eyes. “ _You_ do not give _me_ commands.”

I turn my chin up defiantly.

“Still bitter about dear Sirius? Or are you angry about your wand?” she asks me with a cackle, her grip on my wrist tightening. “Come along! The faster Malfoy Manor rids itself of you, the better!”

“I know you don’t want it to be true, _Mother_ ,” I say, trying to upset her further, trying to find a way to feel better about how much she hates me, “but I _am_ your daughter, and you should still try to treat me as such.”

“My daughter is dead! You are not Aurelia. You will—you will never be Aurelia.”

“Except I am.” Bellatrix is the only person to whom I admit that I am Aurelia. I deny it if anyone else brings it up, but I now throw it in her face as often as I can without risking her killing me. It upsets her, and that brings me a twisted joy, almost makes it bearable that she dislikes me so strongly.

Her lip curls furiously. She takes her frustration out on the front door, banging on it as loudly as possible. A short moment later, it flies open with the irritated mutterings of a man. He tries to speak, but is frozen after laying eyes on me and my mother.

I lift my bag into view. “Hello,” I say. “Looks like I’m spending the summer here, Professor.”

Snape frowns at the two of us. “The Dark Lord’s orders,” Bellatrix informs him. With her hand on my shoulder, she shoves me forward. I grab the door frame to keep from running into Snape. She addresses him with a simple, “Good luck.” Then she watches me for a short moment before placing my wand in my hand. “Enjoy your time in this Muggle dunghill.” With that, she Disapparates, leaving me alone with Professor Snape. This has definitely been one of my absolute worst ideas yet. He steps aside to let me in. I enter his home, the place where I will be staying for the rest of the holidays.

Snape closes the front door to his little home on Spinner’s End and watches me closely. Neither of us takes a step farther into his house, and neither of us speaks. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done this. Sure, it might be slightly better than living in Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix and Voldemort, but was it really worth it? I mean, at least the manor was large enough for me to find different hiding places—this little house surely won’t have many places like that. But I won’t go back there, I just won’t. I will not spend my holiday in fear of running into Voldemort. The last thing I want is any domestic setting for the two of us. I will not eat meals with the Dark Lord, I will not catch sight of him under the same roof as me. I will not sleep knowing that he is just a few floors below me.

And that alone makes staying with Snape worth it.

So I spin on my foot and walk into Snape’s small sitting room, taking in the sight of bookshelves full of black or brown leather-bound books lining the walls and darkening the room, giving it a feeling of neglect. I could easily be back in one of those lonely caves I used to hide in.

Besides the gloomy bookcases, there is a tattered sofa behind an old, unstable little table, and a well-worn armchair decorating the room. If this can even be called “decorating.” Only candles light the tiny room, their flames casting flickering shadows around. Maybe it’ll be brighter during the day, but I can’t be sure. Snape might purposefully keep his domain dark so as not to allow too much happiness and warmth into his life.

This place is awful. At face value Malfoy Manor would be the obviously better choice, but the fact that Bellatrix, Voldemort, and Draco are at the manor makes this little house the safest place for me to be. I give Snape a fake smile. “It’s nice,” I lie.

“You could always go back to the manor,” he says coldly.

I shake my head and reply in a chipper voice, “Why would I want to do that? I like this place much more. It’s much…it’s cozier than the manor.” He probably knows the real reason I am here but doesn’t say anything about it, though I’m surprised he’s not taking the opportunity to taunt me about it.

Actually, he’s not speaking at all, which is very discomforting. And for the second time in as many minutes, I find myself quietly staring back at Snape, trying to pretend that he does not look homicidal at the current moment. His hand twitches, and I have a sudden fear that he wants to reach for his wand and attack me.

But he doesn’t, and we both remain motionless, still staring in silence. _Is he waiting for me to say something? Is he trying to make me so uncomfortable that I ask to leave and go back to Malfoy Manor?_ Well, that certainly won’t work. I’ll take any amount of discomfort here at Snape’s if it keeps me a bit farther from Voldemort. I clear my throat and lift my bag into the air. “Is there anywhere I can put this?”

His lip curls into a snarl, and he starts walking away, which I assume is his answer. So I follow him. We go up a tiny flight of steps and enter a short hallway. There are four doors, two on each side of the hallway, all but one of which are open, and I immediately want to know what’s in the closed room.

Across from that closed room is a bedroom that I get a glimpse of before we walk past it. This clearly unused room contains a plush-looking, full-sized bed and a nice bedroom suit, but I don’t really have a chance to examine it because Snape is still walking. The last two doors house another bedroom and a bathroom. This bedroom is diagonal from the closed room, and it is the door Snape stops at. Immediately I grow frustrated when I peer inside. This particular room really contains only a bed, which is against the far right wall, half the size of the bed in the room down the hall, and a small nightstand. I throw my bag down next to it and sit down, grimacing at the sound of creaking. This mattress is almost as hard as the one he forced me to sleep on when he kept me captive in the potions storeroom.

Snape raises his eyebrow at me as I look around my temporary room. No doubt he gave me the worst room to make me want to return to Malfoy Manor. But this won’t break me. “What’s the empty room down there?” I ask, pointing in the general direction. “It looked better than this one.”

He scowls at me, which is exactly what I was hoping for. “It’s a vacant room,” he says coolly.

“And you didn’t put your guest in the better room?” I ask, making sure to sound both surprised and slightly offended.

“You are not a guest. You are a nuisance.”

I give him an irritated smile then get up, leaving my bag beside the bed. “Okay then,” I say in a sweet voice to impersonate Umbridge. Snape is not impressed. “Shall I take a tour myself or will you be showing me around? If I’m going to be staying here, I should know where everything else is, yeah?”

“You are not going to wander around my house,” he says firmly.

“So you’ll be leading the way then?”

He steps out of the room and points to the bathroom. “The only restroom you are allowed to use.” He motions to the empty room. “A room you are not to enter.” He skips over the closed room altogether. I reach for the knob when he’s not looking, but his hand pounces on my arm and throws it aside. “A room you are not permitted to enter,” he says softly. Slightly intimidated though I’d never actually say that aloud to him, I follow him down the steps. “The sitting room. Do not touch anything that is not yours.” Connected to the sitting room, which is at the bottom of the stairs, are the front door, a closed door beside the bookshelves and the fireplace, and an opening directly across from the stairs. He walks through the opening to reveal a tiny, crowded kitchen with a rundown table that only has three chairs. “Can you cook?”

I inwardly moan, guessing where this is going. “Not really.”

“Then you will learn and that will be how you can make payment for intruding into my home. Cook three meals a day, and your stay here will not be as…intolerable for you.”

“Are you serious? Can’t you cook for yourself? You’re the Potions Master. Isn’t cooking roughly the same thing? You know, adding ingredients, mixing it exactly how it should be mixed, cooking for the right amount of time?”

“I can cook, but you need to earn your keep around here,” he says, looking at me with dark, intimidating eyes. “I had a something of a servant; Wormtail was his name.” _Why was Peter Pettigrew serving Snape?_ “The Dark Lord called him away earlier today.” His face becomes annoyed. “Now I see why.” Bitterness seeps out of him. “And since it was your fault that he’s gone—”

“It was the Dark Lord’s orders.”

He continues as if I had never spoken, “You are to cook three meals a day. If you are to stay here, it will not be for free.” We leave the small kitchen, and he points to the closed door. “An Undetectable Charm that leads to a basement. Usually it’s hidden. You are not to touch that door unless I give you permission, understood?” I nod. He points to the only other door in the room as he walks over to it. He wrenches it open—it leads outside. “Where you will go if you do not obey my rules.”

I nod again. “Yes, sir.” He closes the door and takes a seat in the armchair. Then he blocks himself from my view with a large newspaper. I go to the shelves, searching for a book, my hands running along the leather bindings.

“What are you doing?” he asks me.

I jump and look at him, his newspaper now lowered enough so he can peer over the top of it at me. “Trying to find a book.”

“Did I not tell you that you are to touch only the things that are yours?”

“All right then.” I go to sit down on the sofa.

“I do not believe that is yours either.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask him through my gritted teeth.

“You are free to go to the room I have so graciously lent you.”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh and pull Alphard’s pocket watch out of my pocket and see that it’s nearly noon. I told Fred I wouldn’t be able to go to the shop until two. Oh well, I’ll just show up early, because I’m definitely not about to stay here with Snape. “I’ll be back later,” I say to him.

“Leaving already?” he asks.

“For a short while, yeah.”

“Where are you going? I’m sure the Dark Lord does not want you roaming about.”

“Diagon Alley. And he doesn’t care. They didn’t stop me before.” Until he arrived and they took my wand…

“That was at Malfoy Manor. You’re no longer there.”

“You’re right,” I answer cheerily. “And I’ll make sure to bring something back for you to eat as a thank you.” I Apparate to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes before he can say anything.

I scan the shop for Fred until my eyes land on him. He stands on the second floor. Just seeing him brings a smile to my face. I work my way around many shoppers before I reach the stairs and start up. “Fred!”

He turns. “Charlotte!” He makes his way to meet me, weaving his way through his customers.

I wrap my arms around him. “Busy today, aren’t you?”

He pulls away. “What?” he asks, his voice is full of false indignation. “You act like we’re not always like this! Thought you wouldn’t be here ’til later.”

“Got away from _them_. Bellatrix was happy to see me go, too.”

“I don’t get why she hates you so much. Is she afraid you’ll try to take her place in You-Know-Who’s Inner Circle? She ever actually met you? It’s pretty obvious that you dislike the whole lot of them.”

It’s been long enough, really. I need to tell him about Bellatrix being my mother. “I think I might know why she hates me so much, actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I—”

“Charlotte!” George calls over to me. Four customers between him and us dart out of the way as he rushes over. “Has Fred shown you—I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

I shrug. “It can wait. What hasn’t Fred shown me?”

George pulls his hand from behind his back. “Edible Dark Marks!”

“No!” I laugh and snatch them from George’s hand. “I need twenty of these!”

“Whoa, calm down there, Charlotte,” Fred says, timidly taking them from my hand. “Too many’ll make you sick.” Then he grins. “Don’t tell my mum I said that.”

I smile at him, relinquishing my hold on the candies, before quickly taking one back from him. “But I am going to eat this one because I’m starving. Here”—I hand him some Sickles—“is that enough?”

“You don’t have to pay,” Fred argues.

“Sure I do.” I tear open the packaging of the Edible Dark Marks, which turns out to be something like a green apple lollipop.

George opens his hand, Fred dropping the money into his twin’s palm, and takes the payment to the register. “You had lunch yet?” Fred asks.

“Are you about to take on the role of mother and tell me not to ruin my appetite?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already given you a mother spiel. I was gonna offer to take you up to our flat so we can get something to eat.”

“That’d actually be quite wonderful. I didn’t eat much breakfast. Draco was eating around that time and I didn’t want to be around him any longer than necessary.”

Fred’s face drops. “Come with me, you’re getting some real food.” He takes me up to his and George’s flat above the shop. The moment the door behind us closes, Fred says, “I don’t like you being there with them. I thought your parents would’ve arrived by now.” He must see me stiffen, because his brow furrows suspiciously. “Charlotte?”

I can’t even meet his eyes when I say, “There’s something I need to tell you.” Then I take Fred by the arm and lead him over to the tan cloth sofas, forcing him to sit down with me. I angle myself toward him, holding one of his hands in both of mine, quivering, more afraid to tell him than I probably should be. I force myself to meet his eyes. “Can you…can you promise not to hate me, Fred?”

He cups my face with his free hand and bends to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Of course I won’t hate you.”

“But I’ll understand…you know…if you don’t want…if you decide you don’t want me to come around anymore.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

I take a shaky breath. “There…there’s a reason Bellatrix hates me. And…I do…I do know what it is… I’ve been lying to you about that, and I am sorry.” I rub the back of his hand and continue uneasily, “I…I’m not who you think I am. My parents…they didn’t send me to Hogwarts because Karkaroff went missing. I actually have never stepped foot inside of Durmstrang. I didn’t even know what that was until Dumbledore told me. My parents…I didn’t know who they were until the Christmas holidays.”

“When you were with Malfoy?”

I nod. “I was in an orphanage until I was ten, when I found out I am a witch.” My eyes focus on our hands. “I thought my mother died in Azkaban…but I learnt…I learnt that…she didn’t die in Azkaban. She escaped.” I force my gaze back to Fred’s. “Bellatrix was at the manor for the Christmas holiday. And that’s when…that’s when I found out…Bellatrix is my mother.”

Fred pales a tiny bit. “You’re…Bellatrix Lestrange’s daughter?”

I close my eyes. “Yes.”

“And that’s why you and Malfoy—”

“We couldn’t continue dating after learned that, could we?” I laugh sadly.

Fred sighs. “So I guess you weren’t trying to spare him when you said you didn’t dump him ruthlessly.”

“No, that was…that was true. We just…came to an end because of it.”

“And Bellatrix hates you because you’re her daughter? I don’t get it. If Mum was reunited with Ginny after sixteen years, she’d forget who the rest of us are!”

“We weren’t simply ‘reunited.’ She buried me before I was a year old. Narcissa says Bellatrix can’t…can’t handle the idea of me being alive, because what if she loses me again?”

“And you were afraid to tell me this because you thought I’d hate you?”

I nod.

“You daft girl! I won’t blame you for who your parents are! If anything, this makes you that much more interesting. There’s a whole new side of you I’ll get to know!”

I quickly lean forward and capture his mouth with mine, my hands slipping away from his and grabbing his collar to pull him closer. His hands grip my hips tightly. Fred’s lips are soft, and I want nothing more than to get closer to him and feel those soft lips kiss the rest of me. But I haven’t told him everything yet, and I force myself to pull away from him, ignoring the sad puff of air that escapes him. “I’m sorry…” I whisper, “there’s more I need to tell you.”

He smiles. “Go on then.”

_Voldemort has chosen me to bear him a child. Voldemort has chosen me to bear him a child. I don’t want to do it, but I was chosen. Voldemort has chosen me to bear him a child_. That’s all I have to say, nine words— _Voldemort has chosen me to bear him a child_ —and my conscience can be clear. Nine words. But I can’t do it. “Bellatrix hates me because she’s afraid Voldemort will favor me over her. He wants me to join his Inner Circle, and Bellatrix doesn’t like the idea of a younger version of herself joining his Death Eaters and taking her spot.”

“Does she know you at all?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, she’s missing out.” Heat rises to my cheeks. “This doesn’t change anything.” He smiles at me. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, please,” I say, grateful that he’s changed the subject.

I stay with Fred and George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes until dinnertime.

“You’re welcome to join us at the Burrow,” George says to me.

“I know,” I say, handing Fred a few Sickles for the handful of Edible Dark Marks I’m buying. “But I can’t.”

Fred places the Sickles in the register while George wanders off, heading to the second floor. And there’s no convincing you otherwise?” George wanders off, going up to the second floor.

“Not today. I have to take a meal to…someone.”

His jaw clenches, and he asks, rather angrily, “Is it Malfoy? Is he making you bring him dinner now?”

“Of course not. If it were for him, I’d be too tempted to poison in it.”

His mood lightens. “Where’re you getting the food from? You can go to the Burrow with us and bring something back. I’m sure Mum won’t mind.”

“As much as I’d love to, and as tempting as that is, I can’t. This meal won’t be good for them. If they’re making me bring them dinner, it’s going to be horrible.”

“Take care of yourself.” I know it makes him nervous that I am staying in the same place as Bellatrix Lestrange. If only he knew that Lord Voldemort had been there too… At least now my biggest worry is Severus Snape.

“Of course.”

He takes me into his arms for a goodbye kiss. One of his hands finds its way to my lower back to pull me close to him while his other weaves its way through my hair. I put both of my hands behind his neck and hold him tightly, sinking into his kiss. All of my worries seem to vanish when I’m with him. All I want to do is stay with him.

“Hey, Fred!” George’s voice rings through the shop.

Fred and I pull away from each other. “Bloody hell.” Fred closes his eyes as if praying for patience. “Yeah, George!”

“I’ve got idea for the shop!” he shouts back.

Fred smiles at me. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I really have to go.” He hugs me one last time before I leave the shop. The last I see of Fred is him running up the stairs excitedly to see what George was thinking of.

I stop at the Leaky Cauldron and get Snape some soup. I know it’s not good soup; I’ve had it before. I wait there in the Leaky Cauldron until the soup cools significantly. Only then do I Apparate from Diagon Alley to Snape’s front door. Without knocking, I throw the door open and walk straight in, quite like I do when I barge into his office.

Snape looks up then glances at the clock. It’s almost eight now, since I wasted time in the pub. “Dinner was an hour ago,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I brought you some soup.” I walk over and hand it to him.

“It’s cold.”

“Is it really?” I do a pretty good job of sounding surprised. “I don’t suppose you can explain to me how things grow cold?” I take a few of the Edible Dark Marks from the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes bag and toss them to him. “Eat some of those, then.”

He doesn’t smile at the treats I got from Fred. “Is this your idea of a joke, Rodgers?”

“’Course not.”

“Where did you get these?”

“Diagon Alley.”

He huffs. “What _store_ in Diagon Alley?”

“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the greatest shop in Diagon Alley—I added the last part, of course.” He doesn’t reply. “Well…goodnight then.” I go up to the tiny room he stuck me in and close the door, pretty proud of myself. I think he rather hated those Edible Dark Marks.


	2. Chapter 2

A loud bang on the bedroom door the next morning wakes me up, and groaning to myself, I roll off the bed—another knock forces me to speed up slightly—and trod over to the door and throw it open. A triumphant Severus Snape smirks at me. His voice cold when he says, “Good morning, Miss Rodgers.”

I rub my eyes as they strain to stay open. “’S the time?”

He looks at his watch. “Six.”

My hands drop to my side. “ _Six?_ Six in the _morning?_ ”

“Yes. That’s why I’m waking you up. Breakfast should be ready by seven.”

“Professor, you don’t have to make me breakfast.”

“You misunderstand me,” he says with a nasty happiness. “I eat at seven. Therefore you should be done cooking it by then.”

It takes a second for me to realize what’s going on, and by the time I do, Snape is already descending the stairs. I look around and grab the first thing I see: a shoe. Then I lean out of the doorway and chuck it at him, successfully whacking him in the back. A brief moment of pride swells in me, but that pride quickly fades when Snape rounds on me, fury in his eyes. I inhale sharply and brace myself for whatever punishment he might inflict, but rather than attacking me, he smiles victoriously, spins on his heel, and disappears down the stairs.

_Why can’t I ever just let stuff go?_

Not really wanting the answer to that question, I rush off to the bathroom and hurriedly get ready for the day.

Half an hour later, fearfully preparing for the moment when I must face the livid professor again, I tentatively make my way do the steps, too worried about what Snape might do to be frustrated at the unfair terms of me staying here. If the Dark Lord wants me here (which Snape should believe), then I should not have to do anything to remain here. I would try to argue against him, but I don’t want to test him after my little stunt with the Edible Dark Marks that Snape did not find nearly as entertaining as I did. Perhaps those had not been the best idea.

However, I soon learn that my fear, though warranted, is pointless, for Snape does not so much as glance at me as I make my way to the kitchen. That irritates me for reasons I don’t understand, and before I can second guess myself, I lean my head out of the kitchen and look at Snape, who sits in that armchair of his, reading the _Daily Prophet_ , it seems, and ask bluntly, “Am I permitted to touch things in here?”

Not even giving me the courtesy of looking over at me, he says, “Obviously.”

Huffing at my failed attempt to annoy him and his successful attempt to irritate me further, I turn back to the kitchen and look around, unsure of where anything is but certain I wouldn’t know how to cook him anything even if I knew where to find the food. As long as I provide breakfast for him, he should be satisfied, right? I walk to the window and glance around at the neighboring houses.

Across the street a woman is cooking in her kitchen. She has no wand and is using no visible magic, so I assume she must be a Muggle. A quick glance over my shoulder assures me that Snape is not watching, and I whip out my wand to summon the breakfast the Muggle woman has just finished. It flies out of her window, soars across the street, and lands on Snape’s small table. “Breakfast is ready!” I yell to the professor.

The armchair creaks, and a moment later Snape enters the kitchen, his eyes immediately watching me suspiciously. “From which house did you steal that?”

“The one straight across the street.” It’s only a few pieces of toast, some marmalade, and some eggs, but it’s better than nothing, which is what it would have been had the Muggle woman not been making breakfast when I needed it.

The food being stolen doesn’t seem to bother him at all, and he goes to a cabinet, removes two plates, and sits down. The two of us eat in silence, and when he finishes, he places his dirty plate in the sink and says, “Clean the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I slaved over this meal. The least you can do is clean up.”

His lip curls, and he leaves without a word.

I do as commanded, then enter the sitting room nearly ten minutes later and plop down on the sofa, completely disregarding Snape’s warning from yesterday. He is once again reading the newspaper and does not acknowledge me until I say, “The Dark Lord wants you to teach me how to duel.” This causes him to set aside his paper and look up at me. “And it would be best if I learned Occlumency—but I’m having this odd sense of déjà vu which makes me believe we’ve already had this conversation.”

“And as before, I will teach you at the start of term.”

“Why wait when you can teach me now? The more time I have to work on it, the better I will become.”

Snape sets the paper aside and folds his hands together in his lap and just watches me silently, completely motionless, for almost two minutes straight. I refuse to look away, regardless of how much I want to cower from him. Instead I just stare right back into those black eyes, my fingers fidgeting by my side. Finally, he says, “We will begin lessons this afternoon.”

“Why not now?” I won’t be going to the joke shop today because I know that while I’ll never say it and neither would Fred, I’m distracting the both him and George from their very successful business, and I don’t want to become a nuisance.

He stands to his feet, eyeing me. “I have somewhere I must be.” He seems to realize something before Disapparating. “It’s in your best interest not to go into any room that I have already informed is off-limits to you.” Then he vanishes with faint _pop_.

This is perfect, really, because he can’t stop me now. I dash up the stairs, smiling that for once something has worked out for me.

I take out my wand and point it at the mattress in the guest room (the one Snape glossed over instead of letting me stay in), the one I’m forbidden to enter. The mattress lifts into the air, slides out of the room, floats down the hall and into my temporary room, and drops onto the floor. The hard mattress leaves my bed and drops into the hallway. I lift the nice mattress and place it on the bed frame, reducing its size until it fits perfectly. Then I pick up the bad mattress and put it on the frame in the good room, enlarging it to make it fit onto its new bed frame.

I smile at my handiwork, appreciating my own cleverness for a moment before Disapparating from Snape’s house.

I am now standing in the front of the Burrow. Through the window I can see Mrs. Weasley sitting in the living room, a brown-haired woman with her, and I briskly make my way to the front door. Maybe I should have owled or something. If she already has company, I should leave, right?

No, I don’t want to. I want to talk with her.

So I knock on the door, deciding I can leave if she’s too busy. Mrs. Weasley answers just a moment later. “Charlotte?” she says, confused. “What are you doing here?”

This is probably a bad idea. I should leave while I still have a chance, but the words “I wanted to talk to you…” slip out. I quickly add, “I can come back if—”

“No, no, dear. Come in, come in!”

The brown-haired woman turns. “Charlotte.”

Her voice has virtually no emotion in it, and it takes me a moment to register who it is. “Tonks! What are you doing here?”

“Just talking with Molly,” she says.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Mrs. Weasley suggests. I take a seat next to Tonks on the sofa, and Mrs. Weasley takes a seat on the armchair next to us. We’re all silent, and I have a feeling that Mrs. Weasley is waiting for me to say something, to explain why I am here. But I find myself too distracted by Tonks’s depressed look to say anything at the moment.

I glance between her and Mrs. Weasley, and when neither of them says anything, I quietly ask Tonks, “Are you all right?”

It takes her a second to realize that I’m speaking to her, and she quickly looks over and says in a falsely happy voice, “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Part of me wants to press the issue, but she stands and says, “I’ve gotta leave. I’m supposed to go to Grimmauld Place to meet S—”

“Okay!” Mrs. Weasley interrupts her. Tonks seems to realize her mistake and quickly hushes. “Be careful.”

Tonks hugs both Mrs. Weasley and me. “See ya later.” And she’s gone.

Only then do I look back at Mrs. Weasley, whom I find watching me, waiting for me to begin speaking, which is the whole reason I came here. I somewhat wish Tonks hadn’t left, because she knows the full truth about me and might make it easier to say all of this to another person.

Mrs. Weasley seems to realize that I’m struggling to say anything, and she says, “Are you still at Malfoy Manor, or have your parents finally arrived to get you?”

“My parents won’t be rescuing me from Malfoy Manor, Mrs. Weasley,” I say. “That’s actually why I came here to talk to you.”

“Do you need a place to stay? I’ve already told you that our house is open to you if you need it.”

I smile sadly at her. “Well, I would, but...I wouldn’t be allowed to. I…my mother wouldn’t allow it.” She’s about to say something, but I continue, “My mother…I am…Mrs. Weasley, I am the long lost daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange.” Mrs. Weasley waits quietly while I explain to her how I was in the orphanage, the events at Alphard’s, and everything following that which led to it being discovered that I am Aurelia Lestrange.

“Fred and Ginny and Ron know,” I finish. “They…they seemed okay with it. But if…if you don’t…if you don’t think I should come around anymore, I’ll understand.”

“Oh, Charlotte,” she says, putting her hand on my arm, “your parents have nothing to do with who you are!”

“I’m afraid,” I say, choking back the tears I feel approaching, “in my particular case, that isn’t necessarily true.”

She looks at me compassionately. “What do you mean, dear?”

I glance around the place to make sure no one else is around to hear me. “I’m more than just Bellatrix’s daughter. I’ve been lying…to everyone, Mrs. Weasley.” I swallow. “You will be the first to know besides Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius, and Tonks. And I am asking—no, _begging—_ that you not tell anyone yet. I need to figure the right way to do it.” And considering she’s Fred’s mum, she might be able to help me find a way to tell him.

“Dumbledore knows?”

“He knows.” I shift on the sofa and fold my hands together. “My death was faked for a reason. Alphard was trying to protect me.”

“Protect you from what?”

“Not ‘what’ but ‘whom.’ Voldemort to be exact. He chose me, both as Aurelia Lestrange and Charlotte Rodgers, to…to…” I don’t know if I can go on, even though I kind of desperately want to. Something stops me.

Mrs. Weasley smiles encouragingly at me, but her voice is serious when she asks, “What did he choose you for?”

Her kindness pulls the words from me. “To bear his child.” She gasps, much like McGonagall had done when I informed her. “I don’t want to, of course. But I don’t have a choice…that’s why he wants me protected.” Tears blur my vision.

Mrs. Weasley takes my hands. “You poor thing.”

I choke back my tears again. “I…I don’t know how to tell…I don’t know how to tell Fred.”

“Just be honest with him,” Mrs. Weasley says, doing her best to conceal her discomfort with this news. I nod, unable to speak just yet. She gives my hands a comforting squeeze. After a few minutes, she asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

I hadn’t expected her to ask that. “I guess…for a few reasons, really… You’re Fred’s mum, and you’re so kind. I figured…you could help me find a way to tell Fred so that he’ll understand? And, I know you’re a part of the Order of the Phoenix, you and Mr. Weasley both. So, I just thought…maybe you know if Harry will be able to kill Voldemort…” I gulp. “And, well, you’ve had seven children…and I knew you would be honest…is it as awful as Bellatrix makes it seem?”

Mrs. Weasley puts her hand on my shoulder. “I believe You-Know-Who will be killed before you have to…” She seems as unable say aloud what I have to do for Voldemort. She’s definitely not the first to be unable to speak it. For a few years I was the same way. “Children are a blessing,” is all she has to say about my other question. “And Fred will understand if you’re honest with him.”

I smile weakly at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll find a way to tell him.”

We sit there in silence for a few minutes before I clear my throat and change the subject. “I know it’s still early in the day, but…will you be cooking lunch any time soon?”

She smiles. “Would you like to stay and eat?”

“I’d like to learn to cook. I’ve never had the chance before.” And I almost don’t want to keep stealing for me and Snape. What if the Muggle across the street begins to notice that her food is being stolen? More importantly, what if she decides to make something someday that I don’t like?

“It’s still early yet,” she says, “but you’re—”

Stampeding feet on the stairs interrupt her, and a moment later, Ron and Ginny can be heard bickering. “No, Ron, that’s why I became Seeker when Harry was kicked off the team,” Ginny says.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re any—”

The two of them stop when they see me sitting with their mum in their living room. “Morning,” I greet them.

“Morning,” they say. Ginny adds, “I thought you’d be with Fred. He said you spend most days there to get away from the Malfoys.”

“I decided not to go today because I feel like I’m a distraction.”

“You’re an enjoyable distraction for him.”

“Mum,” Ron says, “There breakfast left?”

“Yes, yes, come eat.” The three of us—Ron, Ginny, and I—follow Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen where the already-made breakfast moves from the counters to the table, followed by plates for each of us, and even though I ate toast and eggs at Snape’s, I decide I might as well eat here as well. If my life is to be surrendered to Voldemort, I should get enjoy the little things, like free food, right?

Ron loads his plate with food. “How long are you staying?” he asks, his mouth full eggs.

“I’m not sure.”

“You may stay here as long as you’d like,” Mrs. Weasley says. “There’s no need for you to go back to that place earlier than necessary.”

I smile at her, but before I can thank her, Ginny says, “Well, this works perfectly. Charlotte, you can referee a one-on-one match between me and Ron. I have to prove once and for all that I’m better than him.”

“You wish,” Ron interjects.

“See what I mean?”

Oh no. “Will I need to be on a broom?”

“It’s recommended,” Ginny says.

“The only time I ever flew, I ended up crashing to the frozen ground and nearly breaking my neck in front of Snape.”

Ron takes a large swallow of his orange juice. “You never learnt to fly?”

“Unfortunately, no. Draco was going to teach me, but I had to get out of Malfoy Manor before he had a chance. Bellatrix was not too pleased when she found out who I am, and I had to…run, really. She was…” I huff. “She was furious to find out that I was alive.”

Mrs. Weasley says, “I don’t understand that woman. If I lost Ginny and had her returned to me…” She smiles lovingly at her daughter, and a surge of jealously courses through me. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to take my eyes off of her again.”

Ron clears his throat. “We can show you the basics. You really just have to sit there and make sure neither of us is cheating.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Less than an hour later, I am standing in the backyard of the Burrow with Ron and Ginny. “So you know how to get up into the air then?” Ginny asks.

“Yeah, I accomplished that pretty well, actually. It was the coming back down that nearly killed me.”

With that, the three of us take to the sky. “Now, all you have to do,” Ginny calls to me, “is direct the broom where you want it to go.”

Only ten minutes is spent showing me how to direct my broom, and while the idea of it makes sense, I would never trust myself to fly around as freely as the two Weasleys are currently doing. Especially not while trying to maneuver around with a Quaffle in my hand. Honestly, I’m not sure how I’m even supposed to be refereeing this game.

Luckily though, they haven’t had any disputes that I’m required to settle. I remain completely motionless on my broom. Flying around used to be a dream of mine, but now that I’ve attempted it, I’m terrified at the idea of trying to escape anyone on a broom. I would die so quickly.

I’m saved from my role of refereeing a few hours later when Mrs. Weasley calls all of us back inside for lunch, which winds up just being turkey sandwiches. She looks at me apologetically. “The turkey was already made, and I didn’t think you’d be interested in learning how to make a sandwich.”

“That’s fine.”

“But you can help with dinner.”

I’m finishing my sandwich as Ron finishes his second. He hops up. “Hurry up! Let’s go, Ginny.”

“You’re losing, Ron,” she points out airily. “Do you think another couple of hours will let you improve enough to beat me?”

His ears turn a slight shade of pink. _He was losing? I’m a terrible referee._ “Maybe it can,” he says defiantly. “Only one way to find out.”

She sighs and stands to her feet. “Are you ready, Charlotte?”

I look over at the giant plate of sandwiches and smile to myself. “I don’t think I can right now.” Then I turn to Mrs. Weasley. “Would you be offended if I took one of those sandwiches back to someone at the manor? I’ve been charged with the duty of providing him food.”

“With the house-elves they have, they’re making you provide food? For who?” Her voice is full of disgust.

“I can’t say.”

“Feel free to take as many as you need.”

“One will do, thank you.” I grab one of the sandwiches with my bare hands. “I should be back, I believe. Unless they decide I've been gone long enough. I never really know with them and their moods.”

I Disapparate, not realizing until after I’ve done it that I might have to explain how I know how to Apparate when I so obviously should not have that type of knowledge. Snape looks up at me when I _pop_ into his sitting room. “Here, catch.” I toss the sandwich at him, it landing on his chest and falling to his lap. “Or not, whatever suits your fancy.”

“What’s this?” He picks up the sandwich.

“Lunch. Obviously.”

“And where did you steal it from?”

“Didn’t steal it. It’s a courtesy of Mrs. Weasley. Of course, she doesn’t know _you’re_ the one I’m giving it to.”

“And you’re suggesting that she would have refused to let you bring the sandwich to me?” He takes a bite of the lunch I so generously brought to him.

“I don’t know, would she have?”

“Doubtful. Are you ready for your first lesson?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You did want to learn Occlumency and how to duel more effectively, I believe?”

“Well, yes, but that was supposed to happen this afternoon.”

He stands up. “I’m prepared to teach you now.”

“I’m not prepared to learn right now, though.”

“It’s now or never.”

It’s like he purposefully tries to ruin the few rare good times in my life. “But—”

“Now or never, Rodgers. It’s your choice.”

“May I at least go tell the Weasleys that I won’t be returning so they don’t think I’ve died?”

Snape shakes his head. “No.” Without another word he walks to the door that leads to his charm-protected basement. “You are only allowed down here with my permission.”

The torch-lit stone room, almost the size of Snape’s office at Hogwarts, at the bottom of the stairs is obviously used only for potion-making, large shelves of potion ingredients and potions lining the walls, a steel table housing nothing but a large cauldron. Everything one needs to be a reclusive Potions Master. A single chair sits next to the table, and I can only assume he sometimes chooses to wait down here for the potion to finish rather than wait upstairs.

With a wave of his wand, all of this disappears, leaving behind a barren room, giving the illusion of the room growing a bit. Now more than ever, I am reminded of the caves I too often made my home, and it unsettles me. I’m beginning to regret asking him to do this.


	3. Chapter 3

Snape walks to the middle of this concealed room and turns to me, obviously expecting me to follow his lead. I do so without any argument. “What kind of meeting did you attend earlier?” I ask him innocently.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now, I think we should start with your dueling skills. They were… _lacking_ the last time I saw you duel.”

“Really? I believe I held my own fairly nicely against you, Professor.” How does he not remember me slamming him into the tree?

“Beginner’s luck.”

“I’ve been dueling for years! I even held my own against Lucius Malfoy!”

“And look where he is. He’s not real competition. If I remember correctly, Bellatrix and I both defeated you pretty easily.”

“Bellatrix may have destroyed me, but you certainly did not.”

“I took your wand by force, Rodgers. That is a loss. Now, ready your wand, or I shall have to take it from you again.”

“Why don’t we work on Occlumency first?”

“At this point, it’s more beneficial for you to learn to duel.”

“I think, at this point, it would be more beneficial for me to learn Occlumency. If the Dark Lord finds out what I learned…” I drift, purposefully trying to spark his interest, but he doesn’t look the least bit curious as to what I am talking about. “I mean, I don’t think you’d want Voldemort—”

“ _Do not use the Dark Lord’s name_.”

“I’ve told you already, if I am to have his child, I will call him whatever I want to call him.”

“I assumed that you would learn better after meeting him. But I guess you are either too stupid or too arrogant to realize how dangerous it is to speak his name.”

“I learned some pretty interesting things at the Burrow earlier, Professor, things that I should hide using Occlumency. It is not advisable for Vol”—he casts me a very horrifying glare—“the Dark Lord to learn that you are a part of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say to him. “You should have told me! I mean, I’ve had my suspicions, sure, but—”

The next thing I know, I’m hanging by my ankles, my wand slipping from my grasp and clattering to the floor out of my reach, my blood rushing to my head. “I’m not a part of the Order, and it’d be wise for you to know that.”

“All right, whatever, just let me down!”

“Not yet,” he says calmly. He points his wand at me. “ _Legilimens!”_

_I’m eleven years old, running for my life down a poorly lit alley. With my wand pointed behind me, I blindly blast at a pursuer. The man, a wizard with a scruffy black beard and long black hair, follows me, shouting off hexes and curses that I can’t understand. The Impediment Jinx hits me and throws me through the air. I stop only when I smash into a large dumpster. The man comes toward me and stands over me._

_He points his wand at me, smiling at his victory. With a panicked movement, I shriek, “_ Confringo!” _The man bursts into flames and screams in agony. His wand drops in front of me. I grab it and run, glancing over my shoulder to see the Death Eater fall to the ground, pleading for someone to kill him._

Snape releases the spell’s hold on me, and I’m no longer in the alley. Instead, I’m hanging upside down in the basement, my head throbbing, my body shaking violently, all probably due to him delving inside of my mind. Suddenly, I collapse to the floor and smack the floor, letting out a loud groan. I roll over and painfully push myself to my feet. Snape had no right to see that. It was the first time I had ever used magic to kill someone…

“Did you know him?” he asks me softly.

“No.” I had never even heard his name before I ended his life.

“Again,” Snape says. “One…two…three… _Legilimens!”_

_Mrs. Stoico hands me the letter from Alphard on my tenth birthday. I read it, then crumble it and throw it down._

_I’m looking in a mirror, and my face begins changing, as does my hair and eyes. Then I’m looking into the face of an older man. A plumber who had been hired to fix a leak walks into the room. I hit him over the back of the head and take his uniform. I throw my few belongings into a bag and run from the orphanage._

_Back to my normal self again, I stand in Alphard’s empty, abandoned, dirty, falling-apart house. A letter and a small bag rest on a table, and I rush over to them, then read the letter, grab the bag, and ransack the house. I leave with the pocket watch._

_I’m back at the orphanage. The other orphans are gathered around a small room. I listen under the window outside when I hear a voice say, “Mrs. Stoico’s death—”_

“NOOO!” I bellow, now on my hands and knees on the stone floor.

“You’re a Metamorphmagus. Who knows about that?”

“Only Tonks,” I breathe, tears in my eyes. “Sirius did as well.”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t know?”

“I don’t know,” I say, still not looking up at him. “I don’t know—if I displayed my abilities as an infant—”

“No word was ever given about Bellatrix Lestrange’s child being a Metamorphmagus. It’s possible that you didn’t begin using that particular ability until after your parents sent you to Alphard’s.” I guess he has a point. I never even really began to practice those abilities until I was almost eight. “Clear your mind, Rodgers. We go again. One…two…”

“Wait!”

“Three… _Legilimens!”_

_I enter an empty cave. My wand lights up as I explore the area. I’m fourteen with bright red hair and brown eyes and freckles all over my face, one of my disguises. A big, black dog jumps at me, knocking me to the ground. Before I can aim my wand to kill it, it takes off, and I watch it disappear. Then I continue exploring the cave. Embers glow in a small area where a fire had recently been. A pouch next to the embers contains uneaten food, and I rush towards it._

“Get out!” I scream, throwing Snape out of my memories and finding myself on the stone floor again.

“Did the dog return?”

I take a deep breath. “Not while I was there. Why?”

“Where were you? What year was that?”

“In a cave not far from Hogsmeade. It was ’ninety-four, I think. Why does that matter?” With a grunt I push myself back to my feet.

Snape grimaces. “That was no ordinary dog.” I watch at him expectantly. “Did you not know that Sirius Black was an Animagus?” I shake my head. “That was him. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

I don’t know what to think about this, so I don’t say anything at all. I only wish I had known Sirius in 1994. Maybe he could have helped me run from the Death Eaters. Maybe he could have saved me from Lucius Malfoy. Maybe we could have been fugitives together.

“Again.”

“Wait!”

“One…”

“Please!”

“Two…three… _Legilimens!”_

_“Protego!”_

Snape’s attempt to see into my memories rebounds, and instead I see into his. He is hanging upside down by the beech tree. I immediately know what this is. This is the scene that Harry had described to Sirius and Lupin. He shoves me out of his thoughts seconds later.

He doesn’t give me a moment before he shouts, “ _Legilimens!_ ”

_I’m sitting on the stairs of Grimmauld Place, listening as Harry speaks to Sirius and Lupin about the same scenario I had just seen in Snape’s mind._

Snape leaves my mind, and I pull myself back to my feet. “You’re not clearing your mind. You must clear your mind, or the Dark Lord will be able to penetrate your thoughts.”

“How do you clear your mind?” I cry out. “You’re not helping me!” And the Dark Lord penetrating my thoughts isn’t even my biggest fear right now—it’s never being able to control my emotions.

“Empty your mind of all thought and emotion. It’s not that difficult.” That definitely sounds difficul. He waits a second. “Again. _Legilimens!_ ”

_I sit with Fred on his bed inside his room above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. “I have to go,” I say to him. “They’re going to stop letting me leave…”_

_“You can stay here,” he says. “Don’t go back to them. I don’t trust them. Who knows what they might do…”_

_“I can’t stay here. That’ll be too suspicious.”_

_“Suspicious? Who’s there to be suspicious? George doesn’t care! And who cares if the Malfoys are upset? I’m sure your parents won’t mind you getting away from them!”_

_I bite my lip, desperate to tell him the truth._

“OUT!” I shriek, once again finding myself on the stone floor, sweat starting to soak my clothes and my hair. My relationship with Fred is private. Snape might know much of the relationship between me and Draco, but I don’t want him to know about Fred. He has no right.

“Gain control of yourself!”

“I’m trying!” I scream back, not even bothering to stand back up anymore.

“Try harder! _Legilimens!_ ”

_“We weren’t simply ‘reunited.’ She buried me before I was a year old. Narcissa says Bellatrix can’t…can’t handle the idea of me being alive, because what if she loses me again?”_

_“And you were afraid to tell me this because you thought I’d hate you?”_

_I nod._

_“You daft girl! I won’t hold you accountable for who your parents are! If anything, this makes you that much more interesting. There’s a whole new side of you I’ll get to know!”_

_I quickly lean forward and capture his mouth with mine, my hands slipping away from his and grabbing his collar to pull him closer. His hands grip my hips tightly._

“NOOOO! That’s private!”

Snape looks gravely serious. “You must learn to clear your mind,” he says softly, “or the Dark Lord will see everything you fear him seeing. Nothing is private to him, and if he learns that Fred Weasley—”

“Shut up!”

“You must learn. Again.” I meet his eye this time. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

_I’m entering the Room of Requirement for the first time. Draco and I go to the Hog’s Head._

_We’re headed back through the tunnel. Draco kisses me._

_Draco and I are in the abandoned classroom on a date. He gives me the pendant. We start kissing. Draco lifts me and puts me on the table. Snape walks in on us._

_I’m dueling Lucius in Malfoy Manor. He throws me into the ceiling and takes my wand._

_I’m dueling Bellatrix. She uses the Cruciatus Curse on me. I do the same to her._

_Snape and I duel in the Forbidden Forest._

_I duel Draco in the corridor._

_The ice of the Black Lake cracks, and I fall in, crying aloud for help and not caring that I’m losing what little air I have._

I can’t throw Snape out of my memories. Each time I try, a new memory comes to me, and I find myself trying to throw him from that one, only to send him to another.

_I fall over myself to get away from Voldemort when I see him for the first time._

_I enter the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort is._ I have to get Snape out of this particular memory. If he finds out that I asked to be sent to him, he’ll be furious. But my distress only makes it harder for me to get him out. _“I need practice with dueling, my Lord, like you said before” I say to Voldemort. “I wish to be trained. I wish to be a great a soldier, like my mother and father.” I swallow. “I wish to serve you to the best of my ability.”_ I can’t get him out of my mind—I can’t even force him out of this memory.

_“Bellatrix will gladly train you,” Voldemort says._

_“I don’t want to take her away from her responsibilities to you, my Lord.”_

_“Then how will you learn? Bellatrix is my greatest lieutenant. She would be the best for you.”_ No, no, no, no.

 _“Send me to spend the holidays with Professor Snape. He can teach me.”_ Damn.

I finally force Snape out, screaming with the pain of it, but it’s too late. His face is contorted with fury. “YOU—” He closes his eyes, then continues in a soft but dangerous voice, “You appealed to the Dark Lord to come here.”

“Yes.” I don’t even attempt to spin the story to deceive him.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t stay in the same place as Draco, Bellatrix, and Vol—the Dark Lord,” I say. “You are the only other Death Eater that I know. Yours was the only name that came to mind.” He doesn’t seem completely satisfied, but he doesn’t seem as angry as before either. “I couldn’t stay there with them.”

He’s a very hard person to read. “We are finished with Occlumency for today,” he says. “We will resume tomorrow.”

I sigh with relief and shift off my knees and to my back so I can lie on the floor for just a moment. “Good.”

“Dueling,” he says, and a short fear pricks my heart at the idea of jumping into dueling with him while he’s this angry with me. “When you are dueling, what gives away your next attack?”

“I…I don’t know…” I say, continuing to lie there.

“Speaking the spell aloud alerts your enemy of your intentions. You must learn to cast them silently.”

With a loud groan I force myself into a sitting position, then nod at him. “That makes sense.” I pull my soaked, sweaty thick hair off my neck and tie it up.

He waves his wand, and a dummy appears on the other side of the room. With another flick of his wand, a force yanks the dummy up and hangs it by its ankles. “That certain spell is designed to be cast nonverbally. If you cannot do that one, then there’s no hope for you.”

Professor Snape sure knows how to make someone nervous. “What’s the incantation?”

He flicks his wand again, and the dummy falls. “ _Levicorpus_.”

I run the name through my mind, but nothing strikes me as familiar. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s because I created it. Point your wand at the dummy and try it.”

“You _created_ a spell? How—”

“Try it.”

With great effort I push to my feet and trudge over to him, my body and my mind exhausted. Then I point my wand at the dummy and think, quite loudly, “ _LEVICORPUS!_ ” The spell yanks the dummy into the air, and I smile, bending over and bracing myself on my knees.

“Now drop it.”

I look over at him. “How?”

“Never cast a spell to which you do not know the counter curse.”

“I assumed you would tell me.” This is ridiculous. If he didn’t want me to do the spell, he should have simply said so.

“Never assume anything.” His voice gives a clear warning. “The incantation is _Liberacorpus_.”

I force myself upright, point my wand at the upside down dummy, and think, _“Liberacorpus_.” It falls to the floor.

My smile fades when I meet Snape’s eyes. “Do not be overcome with joy,” he says coolly. “As I said before, those spells are designed to be nonverbal.” I watch him closely. “You seem to be rather proficient with the Shield Charm. Why don’t you give that one a try?”

I try. And I fail. My body is exhausted, and I just want to lie down for a minute and regain some composure and some strength. But I don’t say that to him. I chant silently to myself, “ _Protego!”_ Nothing happens, but I just keep trying and failing.

I don’t know how long Snape lets me do this. It could have easily been an hour (though I doubt it) before he tells me to stop. “That’s obviously not working,” he says.

“ _Obviously_.”

He walks to where the dummy lies and points his wand at me. “If you do not block my attack, I will take no credit for the consequences.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Cast a shield nonverbally to stop my attack, Rodgers,” he says. “One.” Does he really expect me to do this? “Two.” I won’t be able to, I just know it. “Three.” I mentally shout for the shield charm to protect me. “ _Locomotor Mortis!”_ My shield doesn’t appear, and his spell freezes my legs together. I lose my balance and collapse to the floor, Snape smirking at me before performing the counter curse to set me free. “You did not stop me.”

“I tried!”

“You failed.” His wand is now in the air, pointing straight at me again. “If you don’t stop me this time, you may lose some fingers.”

I look down at my hands and raise my wand to defend myself. I don’t doubt for a moment that Snape is telling the truth. He wouldn’t mind risking my fingers. In his mind, I will have several more.

“Ready?” he asks me cruelly. I nod. “One…two…three…”

“ _Protego!_ ” I shout aloud. His jinx hits my shield harmlessly.

“Rodgers.”

“Sorry.”

“Again.” He casts the jinx at me again, but rather than cutting off my fingers, the spell throws me backward and rams me into the wall behind me. “Had that been the curse I said it would be, you would currently own fewer fingers.”

“I know that,” I growl, ignoring the throbbing in my back, not standing back up to my feet.

“Again.”

In a panic I verbally cast the Shield Charm around myself and lean heavily against the wall, still unable to bring myself back to my feet. “I can’t—I can’t do it, Professor,” I say quietly, resting my head against the wall, my eyes closed. His footsteps approach me, but I don’t put up a fight. I’m too tired.

When I open my eyes, he is crouched in front of me, a glass in his hand. “Drink this.”

It’s water, I soon find out, and I chug the whole glass, then smile appreciatively.

He takes the empty glass and sends it back to wherever he got it from. “We’ll come back to nonverbal spells later.” He stands back up, and I follow his lead, my legs wobbly. Then he suspends the dummy in the air. “No doubt, with your parentage and your duty to the Dark Lord, you will run into a time where the situation is kill or be killed, and after the Blasting Curse you used on that Death Eater in the alley, I assume that’s not your favorite way to kill a man.”

“I thought you said not to assume things, Professor.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I guess you would also prefer another way besides the illegal _Avada Kedavra_?”

“I don’t want to think about having to kill another person. I’ve done that enough in my life, sir.”

“Being around the Dark Lord will force you to do things that you do not want to do—”

“Don’t remind me.”

He grimaces. “ _Sectumsempra!_ ” The dummy is sliced apart as if an invisible sword has just lost its temper, and I watch in awe as the pieces falls to the floor.

“That’s…not a curse that’s any better…”

“At least the victim will not burn alive.”

I frown at him because he’s right.

“Try it,” he commands, lifting the dummy back into the air.

“Is there a counter curse?”

“[ _Vulnera Sanentur_](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Vulnera_Sanentur), if used quickly enough.” I’m guessing that if the spell isn’t used soon enough, the victim will die, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself by asking this, so I don’t. “Go.”

I take a few short breaths. “ _Sectumsempra!_ ” The spell once again slashes the dummy apart. I don’t intend to use this on any living creature, but I find it pointless to tell Snape this. If he’s teaching me to kill someone or something, he must expect awful things to come about. And I really don’t want to know what he thinks these might be. There’s a brief silence before I ask quietly, “Can we be done for today?” I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It all reaffirms the inevitable.

Snape gives me a furtive glance. “Occlumency, then we may quit.”

“Why?” I moan, unsure if I have the strength to do it.

“You’ve had a bit to clear your mind. You’ve learned new things and no doubt feel different than when we worked on it earlier. You must learn to use Occlumency no matter what your emotions.”

I nod.

“ _Legilimens!_ ”

_I am climbing my way to the top of a building which is under construction, continuously glancing behind me. Lucius Malfoy follows me closely. I can’t waste time throwing spells at him, so I knock things over as I pass them, hoping to slow him down as much as I can._

_I start climbing a ladder that leads farther up. I point my wand at Malfoy and cast a spell. He dodges it, giving me enough time to roll onto the highest floor of the building and dart over to the edge. I’m looking down when Malfoy finishes the climb himself. “Don’t come any closer!” I shout at him, my wand shaking in my hand._

_“Come with me,” he says calmly._

_“Never!_ Avada Kedavra! _” But with my shaking hand, the spell misses its target, instead hitting a stack of metal and knocking it over. I look from the mess I’ve made to Malfoy. I take a step backward off the top of the building._

“ _Protego!_ ” I am drawn into his mind.

_Bellatrix and Narcissa stand in the sitting room of Spinner’s End. Narcissa is crying, pleading with Snape. “Severus, my son…my only son…”_

_“Draco should be proud,” Bellatrix says. “The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at the prospect—”_

_“That is because he’s sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why, Severus? Why my son? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance for Lucius’s mistake, I know it!”_

Snape doesn’t seem to be trying to stop me. He could have pushed me out of his memories by now, but he has not.

_Narcissa staggers towards Snape and seizes his robes. “You could do it!” she cries._

I feel as though he thrusts me farther into his memories, and I resume moments later. But I’ve missed something, I know it.

_“It might be possible…for me to help Draco,” Snape says._

_“Severus—oh, Severus—you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?” she asks._

_“I can try,” he replies._

_She falls at his feet, takes his hand in both of hers, and kisses the back of it. “If you are to protect him…Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?”_

_Bellatrix laughs, the same triumphant laugh I’ve heard from her many times before. “Aren’t you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he’ll_ try _, I’m sure… The usual empty words, the usual slithering out of action…oh, on the Dark Lord’s orders, of course!”_

_He’s quiet for a short moment. “Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow,” he says. “Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder?”_

_Snape kneels to the floor opposite of Narcissa. They grasp right arms._

A strong force throws me against the stone wall, but I hardly even notice. Two questions flood my thoughts: What is Draco being forced to do, and why has Snape allowed me see that?


	4. Chapter 4

I remain on the cold stone floor, Snape still across the room watching me.

Draco is in danger. Voldemort is making him do something, but what? Snape has taken the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa to protect him, but why? What is so important that Snape would risk his life for Draco? And why does it bother me so much that he would do such a thing? I mean, I’m happy that he’s going to help Draco because I still care about the boy regardless of how much I hate the way he acts sometimes, but I don’t understand why that thought fills me with dread. Snape shouldn’t have to risk himself for Draco. Because honestly, Draco isn’t worth it. Since we ended things, I’ve realized just how awful a person he truly is.

Snape walks toward me, but he doesn’t speak. He crouches down in front of me. “Why…why did you…why did you let me see that?”

He frowns. “I didn’t ‘let’ you see anything. I lost control. Why? What did you see?” Though he’s lying and I know it, he sounds so earnest. He’s probably just covering up the fact that he _did_ let me see. His face tells me not to answer his question.

“Nothing…never mind…”

Snape stands and offers me his help. I accept it and am reminded of the way he had taken Narcissa’s hand for the Vow. He pulls me to my feet. “I believe your lessons are over for the day.” With a wave of his wand, he replaces all of potion things to the room, and I follow him out of the basement, moving much more slowly than I would have liked.

While he goes to his armchair, I sigh loudly and start toward the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asks me.

“I just assumed…you know…dinner.”

A strange look crosses his face. “It’s good to know that you plan to stick to our agreement, but it’s unnecessary.”

I stop and backtrack into the sitting room. “Why?” He waves his wand and a platter of sandwiches, as well as two glasses of what looks to be butterbeer, appears on the old, rickety table. “ _What?_ You know where to summon food from, and you were going to have me cook three meals a day throughout the entire holiday?”

“Yes,” he answers flatly. “You would still be cooking had it not been for the Occlumency lessons. Learning how to hide your thoughts can leave a person’s mind weary.” I can’t argue with that; I do feel light-headed, both my mind and my body still so very tired. “And I fear that you’d burn my house down.”

I smile, not caring if this comment slightly offends me. All I know is that I do not have to cook as long as the Occlumency lessons are going on.

Now I want to know where he got this food—when these lessons are over or on the days when we don’t have lessons, I can just summon it instead of trying to actually cook, if I can only learn where he got this from. I sit down on the sofa, grab a sandwich and a glass of water, and eat quickly. This is definitely better than what I would have made. It would have probably just been soup, and bad soup at that.

When Snape has finished eating, he says, “We will continue your lessons first thing tomorrow.”

“Does that mean tonight I’m free to do whatever I please?”

“You need to rest while you can. Practicing Occlumency with an exhausted mind is painful.”

I nod, then head up the stairs to shower and get cleaned off before I do anything else. When I come back down the stairs, not too long after, I say, “I’ll be back shortly, early enough to get some rest.” When he doesn’t reply or try to stop me, I Disapparate.

Fred is standing at the entrance of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes when I appear in front of the door. He smiles at me through glass and throws the door open. “I thought you weren’t coming by today,” he says before kissing my cheek.

“Well, I wasn’t. I spent most of the morning at the Burrow with your family. I had to leave after lunch—I had to take lunch to someone—”

“Like you had to take dinner?”

“Yeah. But when I got back to the manor, I was forced to stay. I just now got away. I thought I’d stop here, and if you and George hadn’t gone for dinner yet, I’d go with you to make sure your mum knows I’m not dead.”

“Why don’t you just leave them if they like to get rid of you?”

I can’t tell them that I’m staying with Snape now. They don’t trust him as it is, and if they found out that the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor consented to me staying with him rather than staying at the manor, red flags would definitely be raised. “They want me to stay ‘safe.’ Going off on my own would not be considered ‘safe’ in their eyes.”

“You won’t be alone! Mum’s offered for you to stay at the Burrow! She doesn’t want you staying with the Malfoys. And neither do I.”

“And I appreciate the offer. But they see your family as blood traitors. They’d never allow it.”

“Then come stay with us,” George offers, who is now behind Fred.

“Yeah, George and I can share a room until you leave for Hogwarts. We don’t mind! We shared a room at the Burrow.”

“I don’t want to take your room from you! You two just now got your own.”

“Then you can share my room with me!”

I know I’m blushing, but I try to ignore it. “As much as I’d love to—”

“They won’t allow it?”

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t think your mum’ll take too kindly to me sharing a room with you.”

“Probably true.” He locks the door behind me, then takes my hand in his, threading his fingers through mine. “We’ll get you out of the manor eventually. No need for you to stay there for the whole holiday. We’ll think of something.”

“Merlin, I certainly hope so.” I look around the shop. “Do you have any more of those Edible Dark Marks?” Fred nods to George, who thrusts his hand into a basket next to him. He brings forth three of the Edible Dark Marks and tosses them, one at a time, to Fred. “Great.” I take too much enjoyment in giving these to Snape, I know, but I can’t help it.

I place the Sickles on the counter. Fred grins. “Everything locked up, George?”

“Of course. Now let’s get going, I’m starved!” The three of us Apparate. “One day you’ll explain to us how you know Apparition already, yeah?”

“If I have to.”

Fred pulls on the door but finds it locked and resorts to banging on it with the side of his fist. “Mum! Open the door! We’re hungry!” He then smiles widely and looks over at me and George. “George, take Charlotte’s hand.”

George grins as if in on some sort of secret, then says, “If that’s okay with Charlotte, of course.” Fred winks at me, and I release his hand, replacing it with George’s. “You’ve got soft hands.”

“Don’t push it, mate,” Fred says sternly. Then he turns back to the door and commences his loud banging once more. “Mum! Open the door! Or are you planning to let your boys starve?”

“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley yells as she opens the door. “Learn to be at least a bit patient—”

“I’m not Fred, I’m George. Seriously, woman, you call yourself our mother.”

She looks at him suspiciously before her eyes land on mine and George’s locked hands. “Of course. Sorry, dear.”

“Only joking,” Fred laughs, “I am Fred.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” I say with a smile, releasing George’s hand.

“I will send you all away without dinner if you’re not careful!” Mrs. Weasley threatens as she steps aside for all of us to enter the Burrow.

“I’m also sorry I didn’t return earlier. I wasn’t allowed to leave the manor when I got there.”

“It’s no matter. I’m glad to know you’re all right.”

Mrs. Weasley walks to the kitchen with us, and while the twins and I take seats around the table, she waves her wand and presents us with the food she presumably made earlier this evening. Her food is always amazing, and while I’m filling up my plate, I ignore the fact that I had a sandwich just a short while ago. It’s just making up for those five years when I didn’t have enough, right? Our meal is silent, all of us focusing solely on eating, and we’re done within fifteen minutes. Only then does Mrs. Weasley take a seat across from me, next to George. “Charlotte,” she says.

“Yes?” She looks upset about something, and I replay everything I’ve done the past few days that they would know about but can’t seem to find anything that would have upset her. _What have I done wrong?_ My heartbeat quickens.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do? I don’t like you staying there with them.”

I start to calm down. This again… I hate talking about this with people I care about. I’m just so tired of the lies, but I can’t tell them the truth of the matter without endangering Snape. “I don’t think there is. I’ve thought of everything.”

She nods, probably having expected this answer. “You’re always welcome here if you find yourself in need of getting away.”

I open my mouth but have to stop and force down the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

Snape aims his wand at me from across the large stone basement at Spinner’s End. Our lessons this past week and a half have started becoming overwhelming, the only breaks being for eating, sleeping, and those occasions when Snape has to go to some meeting for the Order—well, he never confirms that the meetings are connected with the Order, but I am steadfast in my belief that they are. I suspected over the Easter holidays, but now I’m pretty positive he’s a part of it. Besides, didn’t he mention something about Grimmauld Place before? After Sirius’s death? He’ll have to admit to it someday, I know.

“ _Legilimens!_ ”

 _I’m sitting in the grass, leaning against a small cream house. “It’s good to see you again, Rufus,” I say to the yellow dog lying on the grass next to me. “Where’d your family go this time?” The dog shifts to rest its head on my lap, and I scratch it behinds its ears. “You should just run away with me.”_ I couldn’t have provided for that dog had my life depended on it.

Snape releases the spell. “Are you even trying to stop me?”

“Not that time. You managed to find one of my happy memories, and I wasn’t quite ready to leave it yet.”

He watches me sympathetically for a moment. “Again. This time you need to attempt to stop me. _Legilimens._ ”

_“Don’t cry, Charlotte,” Mrs. Stoico says gently._

_“No one wants me,” I whisper back._

_She pulls me into her arms, her long blonde hair tickling my nose and making me sneeze. Then she lifts me into the air and walks over to an armchair and sits down with me. I lean against her, and she rests her head atop mine. “You’ll have a family one day, Charlotte,” she promises me._

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!” I roar at him, on my knees again.

“Well, she was right,” he says coolly. “You certainly do have a family now. Just not one that you want.”

I glare at him. “I’m done for the day.”

“I don’t believe I dismissed you.”

“I don’t believe I care.” I turn my back on him and make my way to the stairs, but I hear him begin to cast the Legilimency Spell again. As quickly as I can, I turn and shout, “ _Protego!_ ” The spell rebounds and drags me into Snape’s memories.

_A young Severus Snape sits next to a little redheaded girl, their feet in the Black Lake. “Gryffindor…” he says sadly. “I can’t believe you were placed in Gryffindor.”_

_She sighs. “And with those gits from the train. I wish I was in Slytherin with you.”_

_He smiles at her, a genuine smile, and says, “But we can still be friends, even if we aren't in the same House.”_

A spell throws me onto my back. Was that the same friend whom he would later call a “Mudblood”? Was that Lily? I’ve never actually seen her. Snape seemed so happy with her.

“We’re done for today.” His voice is dangerous, and I nod silently, not wanting to antagonize him. “We’ll resume the day after tomorrow.”

Because tomorrow he has to go somewhere, most likely for the Order though he’ll never admit that to me. I just wish I knew—I need to know how much I can trust him. I don’t want to put too much faith in him just so he can make a fool out of me when it turns out that he’s actually loyal to Voldemort.

At least we won’t have to be around each other tomorrow. I think we need a break from one another.

We don’t speak to each other for the rest of the day, which results in a few hours of uncomfortable silence before I dismiss myself from his presence to go to sleep, not even having attempted to Apparate to Diagon Alley. A part of me knows that doing such a thing would not have gone over well. Somehow what I saw in his memories angered him more than usual.

When I wake up the next morning and go downstairs, I’m not surprised that Snape is still relatively quiet, but I am surprised that he doesn’t seem angry with me anymore.

Though I want to go see Fred and go with him to the Burrow to meet his brother Bill and Bill’s fiancée since I have the day off, I’ve made other plans. I might drop by the shop later just so the twins know that I’m not dying in the manor, that the Death Eaters haven’t killed me, that I’m not being held prisoner (not yet at least, I can never be too sure what they’re gonna do).

Snape believes I’m endangering the Weasleys by associating with them. He says that if I truly care about them, I would avoid them. And with how terribly I’ve been struggling with Occlumency, I think he might be right. If I can’t stop Snape from peering into my mind, how will I ever stop Voldemort himself?

Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps I am just risking their lives.

That’s part of the reason I’m not meeting with Fred today. I didn’t tell Snape this, and he didn’t ask my plans before leaving, so I’m just going to let him think whatever he wants to think.

I’ll actually be meeting Tonks, who will be taking me to meet her parents, an opportunity that has not presented itself until now.

So after breakfast (which I stole from the Muggle across the street again because I had to “make” breakfast since the lessons are cancelled today), I leave the kitchen and Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron where Tonks awaits me. I’m not surprised to be greeted by a brown-haired Tonks. I haven’t seen her bubblegum pink in a while, and I’m afraid to know why that is. I assume that means something is wrong with her, but I can’t be sure. “Wotcher, Charlotte,” she says when she sees me, but her heart is not in it.

“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“Just got here actually, moments before you showed up,” she says, unable to keep her voice as cheery as it usually is. “You mind if we stop at Gringotts? Mum asked if I could get some Galleons out for her.”

I’ve never been in the Wizarding Bank before, and I suddenly feel excited at the prospect of going. I manage to keep my voice even when I say, “That’s fine.” I follow the Tonks to the bank in silence.

I don’t know why _she’s_ not talking, but _I’m_ not talking because I’m formulating a way that I can bring up whatever it is that is ruining her usually chipper mood. So intent on devising a way to ask her what’s bothering her, I miss the moment when we step into the bank, and I regret it. This place is so different from anything else I’ve ever seen, and I wish I could’ve taken it all in when I first had a chance.

Tonks speaks to a goblin—I’ve never met a goblin before—while I fruitlessly continue to think of a plan.

I finally give up trying to think of a way to find out what’s wrong when we load into a cart that sits on tracks leading deep into the earth.

I look over at Tonks, and I am relieved that she doesn’t look worried about this situation. I brace myself for whatever might happen.

The cart takes off in an alarming speed, twisting through a maze of passageways and dipping farther underground. I don’t like this at all; I’m actually afraid that I might fall out and die. A chill runs over me the farther down we go. Try as I might to count the ridiculous amount of vaults, I fail terribly and give up completely when the cart comes to a sudden halt. 

We climb out and follow the goblin to one of the vaults. Tonks hands him a key, which he puts into the lock. Then he places his hand against the door, and it opens. Are goblins the only ones who can do that? Why do I not know more about all of this? _Because you never had a reason to._

Mountains of gold, stacks upon stack of it, greet us, and my mouth almost waters. I’ve never seen so much money in all of my life. Apparently being disowned from the Black family has not ruined their fortune at all, and I’m curious how they have remained so well-off. I’d almost be tempted to steal it if it didn’t belong to people I know. I wonder if my parents’ vault looks like this or if there’s even more, considering there are two family’s fortunes locked away in there. _You won’t have access to it anyway, so why does it matter?_

Tonks fills a bag with some Galleons, and we exit the vault and reload into the cart. We leave just as fast as we had come, and my heart clenches again at the thought of falling out of this thing and plummeting to my death.

Tonks looks over at me when we step out of the bank. “Let’s say hi to Fred and George,” she says, and I feel that she’s doing this more for me than herself. But I am grateful nevertheless, so I smile and nod. “You haven’t been around in a while?”

“How do you know that?” I ask as we walk to towards Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“I spend time with the Weasleys. They say you haven’t been around in over a week.” She looks over at me as we walk. “Why?”

“I’ve been taking lessons. Haven’t really been allowed to leave.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“Dueling and Occlumency.”

“Who’s teaching you?”

“Bellatrix,” I say quietly. Tonks doesn’t reply. I think she probably feels bad for me, considering how much Bellatrix and I dislike each other, and I take this moment of her silence to pounce on the opportunity to ask a gateway question that will help me guide me to what I really want to know. “What happened to your pink hair?”

Her face becomes quite sad, and she says, in a dead voice, “I…I just thought…you know…a change of pace would be nice.”

“You can tell me the truth. You’ve listened to my problems…I can listen to yours.”

She smiles at me, a sad smile but a smile all the same. “Not now.”

We walk the rest of the short way to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with light conversation. She mostly asks about what I’ve been learning, but because of my failures to accomplish what Snape wants me to accomplish, I actually don’t have much to say besides explaining how difficult I find Occlumency and nonverbal spells. “Nonverbal spells are always hard to begin with,” she assures me as we reach the entrance to the shop. “It gets better. And I’d offer some sort of advice on Occlumency, but I never spent much time working on it.”

“I appreciate the effort.”

Fred sees me the moment I step into his shop, and he hurriedly rushes past his customers and wraps me up in his arms once he finally reaches me. “Where’ve you been?”

“Lessons with Bellatrix,” I lie.

“Bellatrix?” He moves his hands to my shoulders and lowers his face to mine. “Has she hurt you?”

“Like I’d let her do such a thing!” He calms down, but remains openly nervous about my lessons with my mother, though I’m not really taking lessons from her. But I can’t really tell him who is truly teaching me.

Then his eyes move to Tonks, who seems even more dispirited now than she did just a few minutes ago, and he smiles at her. “Where’d you find Charlotte? She’s been hiding from me for weeks!”

“She’s going with me to meet my parents.”

“I got the day off. And I thought, why not go meet the members of my family who are against Voldemort?”

“Don’t say his name!” Tonks says. “It’s dangerous.”

“Right, sorry. I’m just so used to saying it to annoy Bellatrix.”

This makes them smile, and Fred says, “She even buys Edible Dark Marks to take back to the manor.”

“How’d they take it?”

I grin at the thought of Snape’s angry “Is this your idea of a joke?” and say, “They didn’t take it well.”

“And then she did it again.”

“And they took it even less well that time.”

Tonks and I spend nearly an hour with the Weasley twins before we have to say our goodbyes. I take a calming breath before Tonks Disapparates with me, taking me back to her parents’ house so I can finally meet them.


	5. Chapter 5

Tonks and I are standing outside a modest wooden home. My cousin smiles at me before throwing the front door open and stampeding in. “We’re back!” she announces to the seemingly empty place. Around the corner of an opening to the left, Andromeda emerges, and I am struck silent by how much she looks like my mother, the only real differences being her hair, which is lighter, and her eyes, which are kinder. It seems all of the Black sisters inherited the same beauty.

I’m able to take in the sight of her for a short minute while she greets her daughter with a warm embrace, an act that ignites the sort of envy I haven’t felt since seeing Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. _Why couldn’t I have been Andromeda’s daughter rather than Bellatrix’s?_

Andromeda releases Tonks, her eyes coming to a rest on me. A heartbeat of silence follows before she says quietly, “You look just like her. But so different at the same time.” My heart lifts with the idea that I might not look like Bellatrix. Since I’ve learned of my parentage, that’s all I can see. And try as I might to stop, I always find myself comparing my looks to those of my mother. Andromeda puts her hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze as if trying to see if I’m real. “I remember mourning your death. And now here you are.”

“I…I thought you and Bellatrix didn’t speak when I died?”

She shakes her head. “We didn’t—we don’t—but I was aware that she’d had a daughter. And then you died—or…so we thought.” Her hand drops from my arm, but our eyes remain locked. “As a mother I mourned for another mother’s loss. You didn’t deserve death. You were innocent.”

And oh my, how I’ve lost that innocence over the years.

Her eyes still on me, she says, “Come, come sit down.” Then she glances at Tonks and adds, “Your father should be here shortly.”

The three of us sit down in their living room. Their home is nice, not spotless, but cluttered in a lived-in type of way. It’s inviting and large enough to be comfortable without being overbearing like Malfoy Manor. I feel at ease here almost immediately. Andromeda continues watching me, as I am watching her. It’s astonishing, really, how similar in appearance she is to her sister. If I were to just glance at her for a brief moment, I would believe her to be Bellatrix.

After a few moments of us staring at each other in silence, Andromeda says softly, “I’m sorry, it’s just…I haven’t seen Bellatrix in so long. And you…” She exhales. “We were all close once, if you can believe it. All three of us, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and I. Almost inseparable. Then I met Ted and… Everything changed. I miss them sometimes, my sisters. I miss what we used to have.”

We smile sadly at one another. “Andromeda—should I call you ‘Aunt Andromeda’?—how am I the same as Bellatrix but different?” If anyone can tell me that I’m different from my mother, it’ll be the woman sitting in front of me.

“You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with. And as for how you’re different from Bellatrix. Well, you’re here, for one, with your blood traitor family,” she says, a slight bit of humor in her voice. “I take it they don’t know you planned on meeting us?”

“There’s a lot they don’t know about me, actually.”

“I guess they like to see you as another Bellatrix?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking lately. They expect me to be just like her.”

Andromeda smiles again. “You don’t have to be. Look at Sirius and me. We grew up under the constant influence of pureblood superiority, and we turned out nothing like our parents.” The thought makes me happier than I’ve been in a while. “That’s how you’re different from Bellatrix. I can see the defiance in your eyes. They’re not Bellatrix’s. They’re full of the same early stages of rebellion I saw in Sirius when he was growing up.” She looks at me intently. “It was Aurelia, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but now it’s Charlotte.”

“How many people know the truth?” Tonks asks.

I look over at her for the first time since I entered the house. “The whole truth? You,” I say to her, “Mrs. Weasley, McGonagall, and Dumbledore.” I can’t tell them that Snape knows. “Oh, and the Malfoys and Bellatrix.”

“The whole truth?” Andromeda asks. “Is there more than you being just the daughter of Bellatrix?”

Tonks has kept her word. She hasn’t told even her mother about my duty to Voldemort. Something about that makes my heart swell. “There’s…a bit more.”

At that moment, the front door opens and in walks a man whom I can only assume is Ted Tonks. If not, then we’re about to have some serious problems.

“Ted!” Andromeda greets him. “You startled me. I didn’t think you’d be home until later.” She gets up and gives her husband a kiss and helps him out of his traveling cloak.

“Who’s this?” he asks, looking at me.

“Aurelia Lestrange—Charlotte Rodgers,” Tonks says. “The one I told you about.” She, too, has stood to greet him.

His eyes don’t leave my face. “Bellatrix’s daughter?”

He’s not asking me, but I answer anyways. “Yes.” I stand and offer my hand.

“Ted Tonks,” he says, accepting my gesture. After the quick introduction, we all sit. “It’s nice to meet another of member of Dromeda’s family who fights against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“I feel the same way. It’s nice to know that not my whole family is devout to Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who,” I correct at Andromeda’s sharp intake of breath. I wring my hands together. “But…I believe I was about to tell you the whole truth.”

“You don’t have to,” Tonks says quietly.

I give her a firm nod. “I know. But…you’re family. And I want you all to know, I _need_ you all to know, because what if…” Because what if they take pity on me and decide that they can help me get away? “I just…I feel like my family should know.” Just in case I need them later. It’s selfish of me, I know, to be thinking about how I can use my family to benefit myself, but I don't care.

So, with Tonks’s help, I begin telling them about my duty to Voldemort, and they seem to take it the same way McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley had. First shock, then fear, then sympathy. And honestly, it’s easier to accept their sympathetic looks, but if that is because they’re family or because I don’t know them as well, I’m not sure. It’s just easier to look into their sympathetic eyes without wanting to hide away.

For nearly three minutes after Tonks and I finish, Ted and Andromeda watch me silently, Andromeda looking rather horrified, Ted looking a bit angry. “I don’t want to,” I reiterate for the seventh time, “but I don’t have a choice.”

They both nod kindly at me, as they have done each time I try to reaffirm this fact. I don’t know why I feel the need to keep saying it, because I’m sure they know I don’t want to do this.

Andromeda then places her hand on my knee, which oddly reminds me of Narcissa, and again I feel sad that I don’t have Bellatrix in my life as my mother. _Why are her sisters so much nicer to me than she is?_ “He will be stopped before that happens,” she says confidently, and her confidence actually makes it sound believable, though I know that it’s a long-shot. I usually never let myself get carried away with the thought of getting out of my duty, but with Andromeda’s words, I can’t help but think about what life might be like if Voldemort _is_ killed before I have to bear his child. Everything will be better.

I quickly move forward and wrap my arms around her neck. “Thank you.”

She returns the gesture.

“Where have you been all of these years?” Ted asks when Andromeda and I separate.

“An orphanage for a while, and then…here and there.”

“You didn’t have a home?” Andromeda asks.

I shrug noncommittally. “You know…just…” I clear my throat. “Not really, no, not a permanent one anyway.”

“Had we known…” She shakes her head. “Had we known, we would have brought you here. I would have raised you as my own. I wish… There was no reason for you to have to live that way.”

“There’s no changing it now.” I give her a half-hearted smile, and she pats my knee again. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this—because it means the world to me that you would have taken me in even though I’m the daughter of your sister who is…well, who she is—but I would prefer not to talk about it.”

“Of course, of course!”

“Have you eaten, Charlotte?” Ted asks. “We’d love to have you stay for lunch.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Would I have invited you if we did?”

“I don’t know, would you have?”

Tonks laughs. “Of course not.”

Andromeda stands. “Would you care to help me, Charlotte?”

“I don’t really know how to cook anything, but yeah, I’d like to help.”

“Dora, Ted, clean this room, will you?” Andromeda leads me into the kitchen, which has hardwood floors, light wooden cabinets, and brown marble countertops. “Bellatrix wasn’t always…the way she is now. I think it’s important for you to know that. For you to know that you don’t come from someone who was always…well, I’m sure you know how she is. Could you open the fridge there and get out the container with the red lid for me?”

Only one container immediately visible has a red lid, and I grab it, hoping for the best.

“Bellatrix, though she always believed in pureblood supremacy, wasn’t always—”

“Evil?”

“I guess that words fits.” Andromeda opens the container to reveal raw chicken breasts. “She was once a great deal of fun to be around.” I can’t picture it. “Don’t make that face!” She laughs good-naturedly. “You didn’t know her when we were children.”

“I don’t know much about her at all, really, other than the fact that she hates me.”

Andromeda glances at me, sadness etched in her features. Then she sets two cutting boards and two knives next to the container of chicken. “Help me trim the chicken.”

I don’t know what that means, but I walk over and take one of the knives. “You don’t use magic?”

“Not for cooking. It’s just something I prefer to do by hand. To an extent, at least. We—my sisters and I—learnt to cook when we were young. I still like to do it myself.” She places one of the chicken breasts on the cutting board. “Cut the fat off—like that, yes, but don’t cut yourself.”

“The Black family tradition is to name your child for a star, right? Why did Bellatrix choose ‘Aurelia’?” I do _not_ like this oily feeling on my hands from the raw chicken, but I say nothing about this to Andromeda.

“That’s quite the story,” my aunt says fondly. “But I do believe your middle name might be the name of a star. I wasn’t close enough to—”

“I have— _had—_ a middle name?” I ask, ceasing my work on the chicken.

Andromeda looks over at me. “I believe so. Bellatrix might have broken the Black family tradition by naming you ‘Aurelia,’ but she wouldn’t have completely turned her back on it. At least one of your names would have been a star, I’m sure. But we never learned what it was—I’m sure she didn’t really want us to know you existed at all.”

 _I have a middle name._ I’m not just Charlotte Rodgers.

“But back to the name ‘Aurelia.’” I start on the chicken again while Andromeda continues, “Growing up, Bellatrix was obsessed—and I do mean _obsessed—_ with Marcus Aurelius. He was a Roman emperor and a philosopher and, most importantly to her, a great ancestor of Salazar Slytherin himself. She and your father talked about him all the time, and yes, I do mean all the time. Until they became Death Eaters, that is, and began to fixate on the You-Know-Who.” She takes the chicken breast from me and hands me another.

“It might not seem like it now, but Bellatrix and your father Rodolphus loved each other for a time. In fact, I remember when he proposed to her. At the time we were still on speaking terms because I hadn’t yet turned my back on my family’s pureblood ideologies—well, I had, but they didn’t know about it yet.” She motions to the chicken. “Start cutting that in thin strips for me, will you? Your father proposed to your mother the summer after they graduated from Hogwarts. She burst into my room where Narcissa and I were, and she rushed over to the bed where we were sitting, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t picture that, can you?”

“No. I don’t picture her ever being happy or—anything other than cruel.”

She smiles at me. “She definitely changed. Anyways, apparently Rodolphus had used a Marcus Aurelius quote in his proposal, can you believe it?”

“Do you remember the quote?” I whisper, unsure why this even matters anything to me. It really shouldn’t, because I shouldn’t care about my parents. But I want to know more about them.

“No, I’m sorry,” Andromeda says quietly. She looks at me with a pained expression. “I know what you’re thinking, Charlotte. Bellatrix and Rodolphus are not the same people they were then. Less than four years later, they had taken their Dark Marks, and I don’t believe they were ever truly happy after that. They were obsessed with You-Know-Who.”

I nod, unable to look at her. _What else had you really expected, Charlotte?_

Andromeda takes the chicken and makes some sort of pasta with it, which she then serves for lunch. Our conversations for the rest of my visit do not stray towards my past life or how my parents were once in love.

The three Tonkses are strictly against the supremacist beliefs of Andromeda’s family, and that only makes me like them that much more.

I have mixed emotions when I leave them late that afternoon. I learned too much about my parents to be satisfied without getting the chance to know them for myself. I want them to be a part of my life, even though they’re Death Eaters, and it kills me that such dreams can never be. My parents chose to be Death Eaters and serve Voldemort over me, and that’s something I have to find a way to accept. Bellatrix and Rodolphus aren’t really my family—they just created me. And that’s all they’ll ever be to me.

Unfortunately, by the time I start saying my goodbyes, it’s obvious that the Tonks family is now just as worried about me as the Weasley family is. They believe I am staying with the Malfoys as well, which causes some issues. So fearful for me they are, that they have Tonks go with my back to Diagon Alley (I said I had to get some things), and they plan on her Apparating as close to Malfoy Manor as possible without endangering herself.

Of course, when we get to Diagon Alley, I don’t let her go with me to Malfoy Manor. “There’s no need to put yourself anywhere near them. It’s dangerous. If they see you…”

“You shouldn’t have to go there alone.”

“But really, there’s nothing you could do for me even if something went terribly wrong. You wouldn’t be able to get close to the manor without Death Eaters descending upon you.”

“But if something does happen, I’ll be able to alert someone at least.”

I look at her sadly. “You know I can’t let you go with me, Tonks.”

She huffs at me. “If I find out that you were hurt because you wouldn’t let me Apparate with you, I’m going to hunt you down myself. Understood?”

“Understood.”

When we get that out of the way, I ask quietly, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

She flushes. “It…it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Of course it is! You’re not…you. I haven’t even known you that long, and I can see that.” I meet her eyes, but she looks away. “Okay, okay. I won’t push you. Sorry.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I clear my throat and take out my pocket watch. “I should probably go…”

We say goodbye before I Apparate back to Spinner’s End.

When I appear in the living room, Snape picks up a letter from the coffee table and holds it up so that I can see it. “You’ve got mail from Malfoy Manor,” he says. I walk slowly over to the armchair where Snape seems to always be sitting. But I don’t move to grab the letter. I just kind of stare at it, afraid of who might have sent it and what it might say.

Tentatively, I take the letter from him. “From the manor?” I whisper, doing my best to keep my fear at bay but not quite able to keep it from my voice. I turn it over in my hands, debating whether or not I actually want to open it.

“Don’t panic,” Snape says dryly. “It isn’t a letter from anyone beckoning you back. Neither Hogwarts nor the Ministry knows that you are here. It is believed that you are with the Malfoys. Those are your O.W.L. grades.”

I look down at the letter, having really no desire to open it and find out what I got.

“Go on, then,” Snape says, watching me with a cruel smile. “Open it.”

“I’m not really feeling up to it, sir.”

He smirks. “Then perhaps you should hand it to me, and I shall open it for you.”

“I would rather dip my own eyes out with spoons.”

Snape continues watching me, and I sigh, knowing that if I don't open this voluntarily, he will probably just take it from me and open it himself because “you’re invading my privacy by being in my home so I will invade yours by seeing your O.W.L. grades” or something along that line.

**O** **RDINARY** **W** **IZARDING** **L** **EVEL** **R** **ESULTS**

**_Pass Grades Fail Grades_ **

OUTSTANDING (O) POOR (P)  
EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E) DREADFUL (D)  
ACCEPTABLE (A) TROLL (T)

Arithmancy__________________________E   
Astronomy__________________________T   
Care of Magical Creatures____________P   
Charms_____________________________O   
Defense Against the Dark Arts_______ E   
Herbology___________________________D   
History of Magic_____________________P   
Potions______________________________E   
Study of Ancient Runes_______________A   
Transfiguration______________________O

I did better than I thought I would, actually.

I knew I was going to get a “Troll” in Astronomy when I walked out like I did. I hadn’t really done any of it, and the parts that I had done were quite horrible. I also knew I would fail Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology. Deep down, I knew I would get an “Outstanding” in Charms and Transfiguration, but I hadn’t wanted to think too much about just in case. What surprises me the most though is the “Exceeds Expectations” in Potions. I thought for sure I would get lower than that. The rest I pretty much expected. I smirk at Professor Snape. “Looks like I won’t be in your Potions class anymore, sir,” I say in a falsely sad voice, handing him the paper.

He reads over it. “I will not be teaching Potions this year. I’ve been appointed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.”

“What? How’d you make Dumbledore change his mind? I thought you’ve been trying to get that post since you first became a professor there?”

“With Umbridge gone, there was a vacant position at Hogwarts. Dumbledore got an old colleague to fill the position of Potions Professor, allowing me to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post,” he says, keeping his voice casual, but he is obviously thrilled about it, his eyes betraying his indifferent face.

“Congratulations,” I say wryly, unsure of what to think. I had hoped to continue into N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Snape only accepts those “Outstanding” students.

“You don’t sound the least bit happy at the prospect of continuing to N.E.W.T. level Potions.”

“Oh, yes,” I answer sarcastically, “because Potions means so much to me.”

“You don’t have to take the class.”

That’s true. But I don’t see the point of going back to Hogwarts if I only plan on taking three classes: Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy. And I’m not even sure if I’ll be taking Arithmancy. It was not a very enjoyable class, even with Hermione there to keep me company. “That leaves me taking two classes,” I say, “Transfiguration and Charms.”

Snape looks up from my O.W.L. grades, a strange look on his face that I don’t know how to interpret. “No Defense Against the Dark Arts? I thought you above all others, with the exception of Potter, would be most passionate about continuing to the N.E.W.T. level. Why else have I been giving you lessons?”

“You only accept ‘Outstanding’ for those who want to advance in Potions. I just assumed—”

“Haven’t I told you not to assume things, Rodgers? As it is, those with ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defense Against the Dark Arts are permitted to move forward to N.E.W.T. level.”

“Oh…”

“I am wondering, though,” Snape continues, “how does one get a ‘Troll’ in Astronomy.”

I scowl at him. “That’s not a story I want tell you.”

He places my scores on the rickety table in front of the sofa and looks at me for a short moment. Then he smiles, and I can see the plan light up in his eyes. “You’re back now from your day off, and I think it’s time we start your lessons again, don’t you?” He starts toward the door that leads to his potion room. I know what he’s going to try to do. He’s going to try using Legilimency to see why I did so poorly in Astronomy. So my one goal in these coming lessons is to make sure that he does not get to that particular memory. No matter what the cost, I will keep him out.


	6. Chapter 6

I follow Snape down to the basement, my resolve growing. He will not see how I got a “Troll” on my Astronomy O.W.L. If I have to die trying to stop him, he will not see that memory until I’ve decided he’s allowed to see it. He can see literally anything else, but on this point I will not budge. He will not beat me like this. Only I am allowed to surrender that thought, and only in my own time.

Snape waves his wand, clearing the room of the potions and potion ingredients, and goes to the far side of the room. “Occlumency first.”

He’s definitely trying to see the Astronomy memory. I brace myself. _He will not see it, he will not see it, he will not see it. I will keep him out of my mind_.

The professor aims his wand at me. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

 _I’m standing in the Astronomy Tower next to Harry. McGonagall is running toward Hagrid’s cabin._ This will not happen. He will not get the best of me this easily. I have been practicing Occlumency with him almost nonstop for weeks. The absolute least I can do is keep him from seeing one memory. _“How dare you!” McGonagall shouts._

With one last surge of determination, I put all of my energy into one thing: throwing him out of my mind.

But try as I might, I cannot force him out of my mind. Instead, I find us in another memory. This is the hardest Snape has fought to keep the spell working against me, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight him off.

_I cast the Disillusionment Charm on Fred and then myself. We stand outside the headmaster’s office while the former Minister of Magic tries to arrest Dumbledore._

Snape continues his search through my mind, and it feels as if someone has grabbed my brain with their bare hands and is trying to rip it in two.

_I’m standing in a cave. A dead wolf lies on the ground, and I cast the Disillusionment Charm over it, but it doesn’t fully disappear. I reverse the spell then do it again. It’s better but not perfect. I try it again. And again. And—_

_Snape walks with Draco to Umbridge’s office._ I’m nowhere to be seen. I must have already used the Disillusionment Charm on myself. He’s following the memories when I used that charm, like he knows that it might lead to the answer of why I got a “Troll” in Astronomy. I’ll have to ask him after this how he managed to figure that out so quickly. Or maybe he just knows me that well by now. It doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is keeping him out of that memory, and I will not fail.

 _Draco and I are lying in his bed._ I would recognize that room anywhere _. We’re holding hands. He looks over at me and says, “I love you, Charlotte.”_

_I smile at him. “I love you, Draco.” He slowly leans to kiss me._

“NO!” I say firmly, finally able to force the spell away from me. I dry heave, lying on the floor, the pain in my head so strong I am eerily reminded of the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Snape switched his tactics, probably to get me to focus on keeping him out of the memories of Draco so I will weaken my hold on the Astronomy memory and lose this battle of wills against him.

But I will not lose. He can see everything that happened between me and Draco, but he will not see what happened in the Astronomy O.W.L. I will succeed in this aspect of Occlumency. _And Snape will be proud of me for doing it._

“Again,” he says with a hint of frustration in his voice that I simply must smirk at. “One…two… _Legilimens_!”

_I’m standing in the Astronomy Tower beside Harry. McGonagall is running toward Hagrid’s cabin._

No. He will not.

_I am standing in Umbridge’s office. Her face has already been hit with the Stinging Hex._

With difficulty, I force him out, but he quickly finds another Umbridge memory to invade.

_The Blood Quill carves into my hand. I wince, tears in my eyes, but make no noise. “You may go,” Umbridge says. I look at the clock—it’s nearly four in the morning—before I stand to leave._

_I am with Mrs. Weasley now. I am telling her of my duty to Voldemort._

_I am with the Tonks family. I am telling them of my duty to Voldemort._

_I am with McGonagall next. I am telling her of my duty to Voldemort._

“Out!” Once again I am on my hands and knees. And what is the point of even trying to stand again? My knees will be bloody and bruised if I keep falling like this.

“How many people have you told?” I can’t tell whether he is angry or not.

“A few.” I put my hands on my hips but do not rise to my feet.

“Again,” he says. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

_I am in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express with the Golden Trio and Ginny. I begin telling them about being Bellatrix’s daughter._

I shove Snape out of my thoughts and memories with a loud shout and a searing pain in my head.

“How many people know you’re the daughter of Bellatrix?”

“A few.”

“Again. _Legilimens!_ ”

_Zoe crouches in front of me in our compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express. Then she takes my hand and looks directly into my eyes. “Never think that you weren’t enough,” she says sternly. “They left you because they are selfish and unfit to be parents. That has nothing to do with you, Charlotte. You need to know that.”_

“No,” I say, my eyes watering with the pain in my head.

The professor looks impressed. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

“No.”

I stop him from entering my mind, but the pain is nearly unbearable. Snape’s hands are wrapped tightly around my brain, squeezing it, trying to kill me. I shut my eyes, my head pounding as the spell continues assaulting me. With a quiet whine, I lean forward and place my forehead against the cool stone. “It hurts,” I say quietly. “It hurts.”

A kind hand rests on my shoulder. “Stand up.” He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. My hands come to a rest on my hips again, and I bend over, trying to breathe through the pain. “Stop me without speaking this time.”

“No, please, it hurts,” I whisper.

“You’ve made a breakthrough, Charlotte. We cannot stop now.”

“Professor, please—”

“ _Legilimens!_ ”

 _Ron freezes my legs together and begins pelting me with snow._ With a thought, I force Snape out of my mind, whimpering. I grab his arms to keep myself upright and close my eyes tightly again. “Please.”

“Quicker this time, Rodgers.” He waits until I nod before saying, “ _Legilimens!_ ”

 _I’m running._ I force Snape out again, my grip on his arms tightening as I try to keep from falling back down.

“Where were you running?” he asks me.

“I don’t know,” I say, my head down, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“Because you did not allow enough information before you stopped me.” He sounds pleased, but I still can’t open my eyes and look at him. “Again. _Legilimens!_ ”

 _Fred’s face flashes across my thoughts._ Then he’s gone, and I struggle to look up at him, tears and growing black spots blurring my vision.

He smiles at me almost proudly. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

I remain staring at Snape, unblinkingly, in the dark basement lit only by torches.

He nods at me. “Well done, Charlotte,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice.

 _I’ve done it._ I’ve kept him out of my mind completely. My brain still pounds against my skull, a few tears slipping down my cheeks, but I almost manage to smile at the pleased look in his eye. _I’ve impressed him_.

“We’re not done. Not yet.” He points his wand at me. “This time, force me to see only the memories you want me to see.”

“Please, I need a break,” I breathe, hanging my head again, really just wanting to rest for a moment to gather myself.

He lowers me to the floor and lets me sit down, my head between my knees. “Do this one last thing, and you can rest for as long as you’d like.” I look up at him, struggling to see him, and nod. He’s agreed to teach me, and the least I can do is follow through with whatever he thinks is best for me to learn this. I know what I am going to show him. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

 _I’m standing next to Harry in the Astronomy Tower. McGonagall is running toward Hagrid’s cabin. She is hit by four Stunning Spells._ Snape is fighting to see anything else _._ Draco’s face appears, but I force it down and continue with what I want to show the Potions Master, the pain in my head growing stronger as I try to keep Snape in this one memory. _I grab up my O.W.L. exam, shove it into the arms of one of the professors, and leave the tower._ Fred’s face comes to mind, but I stop it as well. _I cast the Disillusionment Charm over myself and go to the entrance hall. McGonagall is being carried in, motionless._

 _I follow Umbridge to the swamp that blocks her office and go with her as she makes her way around it. With one swift movement, I ram my hands into her back and shove her forward with all of my might, smirking when she stumbles and catches herself on her desk, nearly hitting her face on the corner. I take the charm off of myself and hiss, “_ You pathetic coward _.”_

_She rights herself before rounding on me. Before she has a chance to point her wand at me, I expel it from her hands, catch it, and throw it into the swamp, then slam her office door shut. “How dare you!” I scream._

Zoe’s face flashes in my mind. My ears start ringing, growing warm.

_“How dare I what, Miss Rodgers?_

_“You know damn well ‘what’!”_

_“Oh, you mean the half-breed Hagrid?”_

Zoe’s face flashes in my mind again.

_“I couldn’t care less about him!”_

_She pauses, her eyes malicious. “Ah, you mean Professor McGonagall?”_

_My wand shakes violently. “Don’t say her name! You don't deserve to say her name!”_

I succeed with the Bird-Conjuring Charm for the first time.

_“She was interfering with an act of the Ministry.”_

_“SHUT UP!”_

I vaguely notice something wet dripping out of my nose, and I start crying. With a little effort I propel Snape farther into the memory.

_“You think you can expel me from Hogwarts, Dolores? Do you think I fear leaving this place? No. No, this place matters very little to me. But do you know what—STOP MOVING—do you know what I do care about? McGonagall.” My wand stops shaking altogether, and I narrow my gaze at her. “Would you like to know what I did to the last fool who took someone from me? For the sake of time, let me just tell you that I made sure his death was drawn out.”_

I don’t think Snape is trying to find another memory anymore, and while that relieves some of the pressure on my head, it doesn’t take it away completely.

_“But you needn’t—WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT MOVING? CRUCIO!” Her silent screams fill the room once more. I wait just a few seconds before releasing the curse. “You needn’t worry, Dolores. Your death, Professor, will be much, much worse. Crucio!”_

I curl into myself, the taste of blood on my tongue, and collapse onto my side. “It hurts, it hurts,” I say, wiping blood from my nose. I cradle my head in my arms. “It hurts.” Snape’s footsteps approach me, and then I feel his hands under my arms as he lifts me slightly and rests me against the wall. “It hurts, Professor, it hurts.”

A cold cloth touches my face just below my nose, and I take it from him, my eyes still closed, and try to wipe away the blood. “You’re fine,” he says kindly. “This happens sometimes. It happened to me. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Suddenly I feel his shoulder against mine, and I force myself to look over at him where he sits beside me, his legs outstretched, his wand in his hand. “Why?” he asks quietly as he hands me a glass of water.

I accept it and take a few big gulps, then close my eyes again. “She could have killed McGonagall,” I whisper. “I was angry.”

“How does she not remember that?”

“A memory charm.” I take a few more gulps of the water.

He hands me a vial of something. “For the pain.” I give him a grateful smile as I drink the potion. “When did you get that proficient in memory charms?”

“When my only choices were to either learn the charm or kill innocent Muggles who caught me.”

He’s silent for a second, then he nods and says, “Take pride in your memory charm, Rodgers. There are not many witches or wizards your age that could pull off one such as you did.” I look away from him and close my eyes again. “I should have taken you seriously about being an Obliviator.”

“You’re telling me,” I say as lightheartedly as I can manage right now.

Snape is silent for a moment. I rest my head back against the hard stone wall, allowing myself to take pride in this small victory in Occlumency.

“Get up,” Snape says a moment later.

“Can’t I just wait here for a second?” I whisper, groaning as I shift and lie down on the floor. “I just…a five minute break. Please.” A small, soft pillow appears behind my head my head, and a laugh escapes me. “And people say you’re coldblooded.”

“Who says that?” He genuinely seems intrigued.

“It’s implied.” I cover my face with the cold rag.

He makes an odd but familiar noise. A few moments later, he says, “You’re Transfiguration lessons with Professor McGonagall seem to have gone well.”

“They did. But we had to stop because of the O.W.L.s. We left off at the Water-Making Spell.”

“If you stand up now, I will help you learn that particular spell before we get started on dueling and nonverbal spells again.”

“You’re planning to teach me Transfiguration?”

“If it’ll make you get off my floor, yes.” I turn my head toward him and look at him, trying to determine if he’s serious or not, and when I am satisfied that he’s not lying, I push myself to my feet and lean heavily against the wall. Then he says, “When you were…punishing Umbridge, you said something about how ‘the last fool who took someone from you’ had a ‘drawn out’ death. You killed a Death Eater in vengeance, didn’t you?”

I clear my throat. I won’t think about that day. I’ve been able to keep it hidden for so long that I fear what will happen if I accept what I’ve done. “You know, I don’t believe that was part of our deal for me getting off the floor, was it? I won’t talk about what happened. I just won’t. It’s not something I ever talk about.”

“Was his name Avery?”

“ _What did I just say?_ ” For a brief second, Snape is taken aback by my quiet, harsh tone, and I seize the opportunity to say, “I’m done for the day.” I make for the stairs.

“I don’t believe I dismissed you.”

“I don’t believe I care.”

I’m halfway up the stairs when Snape says, “When you Cruciated Umbridge, your hand was shaky, reluctant.” I slow down, unable to stop listening to him. “Until you mentioned the ‘last fool who had taken someone from you.’ Your whole demeanor changed. Your wand stopped shaking. Why do you think that is?”

I reach for the door and open it. “I wouldn’t know.” The door slams shut before I can leave.

“Rodgers—”

“I won’t speak of it.”

“Charlotte—”

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

Snape parries my attack with a smirk on his face. “What did I tell you about dueling? Keep your mouth closed and your attacks silent.”

I glower at him. “ _Impe—_ ”

Again Snape blocks my attack. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Shut—” He flicks his wand, and my tongue becomes glued to the top of my tongue. It’s the same damn spell he used on me last Christmas to stop me from speaking.

“From the look of that memory, it seems you have a bit of Bellatrix in you after all. Do you think that might be why you stopped trembling so fiercely when using the Cruciatus Cruse against Umbridge?”

I try to screech at him, but it comes out muffled. He has no right to say such things. I turn and yank on the door, but his magic still works against me. The door does not budge, and I round on Snape, aiming my wand at him again.

“I do wonder, though, who was the last person you cared for? The woman from the orphanage?” I attempt to scream again, but it does me no good, and that just makes my anger worse. Frustrated tears spring to my eyes, and I try my best to yell at him but can’t. “Ah, I see. What was her name again? Did you even really know her? How do you know she wasn’t a Death Eater who only watched after you because those were her orders from the Dark Lord?” I try to attack him, but none of my spells will work. “So how did she die, Rodgers?

“What could you have done to stop it? Were you there? Of course, you were a pathetic child then, just as you are now. You could not defend yourself, you could not defend that woman. And she died. Yes, she died because you were incapable of stopping it, just as you are incapable of stopping your destiny to serve the Dark Lord.”

Tears run down my face, and all I want to do in this moment is kill Snape as I did the man who murdered Mrs. Stoico. But my skills, or lack thereof, in nonverbal spells will not let me. Despite that, I continue trying to attack him. My sobs are stifled because of the spell he’s cast on me, but I flick my wand at him continuously at him, the curses getting progressively worse.

“And just how did ‘the fool’ get to her if you were no longer at the orphanage, Rodgers?” he asks, a false sense of intrigue in his voice. “You led him back there, did you not? You trusted him! He found you when you were vulnerable and alone, a child with no help, a child lost in this world, did he not? And you believed the caring façade he put on just to trick you! And then you led him back to her, didn’t you?

“Of course you didn’t mean to, but you killed her! You didn’t cast the spell, but you handed her to someone who would! You caused the death of the person you loved most in this world! She is dead because of your actions! She lies in her grave, and there is nothing you can do to bring her back! And it’s all because of _you!_ ”

My blood rushes in my ears, and I can’t hold back my anger any longer. With one determined thought, a green flash leaves the tip of my wand, headed straight for Severus Snape, the one person I currently want dead more than Voldemort himself. But before the Killing Curse strikes him, a dummy appears in front of him to take the hit. I cast the _Sectumsempra_ at him, but he blocks it. I jump to the bottom of the steps and cast the Stunning Spell, but he has left the Shield Charm up, rendering the spell harmless.

“Use that anger, Rodgers! Your nonverbal spells are improving!”

I cast the Blasting Curse, but Snape’s shield still protects him.

He removes the spell keeping me silent. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

He expels my wand, and it flies over to him, straight into his palm. “I do—”

I rush at him as fast as I can and tackle him to the floor, pinning him down the best I can and throwing my fist into his face. Then I wrap my hands around his neck and begin squeezing as tightly as I can. “IF YOU _EVER_ SPEAK OF MRS. STOICO AGAIN—” Something blasts me into the air, slams me against the ceiling, and throws me down to the floor.

Trying to catch my breath, I glance up at him and see that he’s struggling to his feet. I let out a roar and move to tackle him again, but a spell hits me and freezes me in my place, my body paused mid-lunge. A short moment later it drops me to the floor. I take a few shallow breaths before I push to my feet and try lunging again, but the same spell traps me and stops me from moving.

“I can leave you like this for the rest of the day or—”

“Fuck you.”

“Rodgers—”

“If you ever speak of her again”—I take a deep breath—“I will do whatever it takes to ensure that my green _Avada Kedavra_ hits you square in the chest.”

“Bold threats from someone who can no longer move.”

I let out a raspy breath, angry that he’s right but unable to expel any of it. I swallow thickly, the fight draining out of me, my adrenaline dissipating and the pain from earlier rushing back into me. The spell forces me to stand up straight. Then Snape approaches me and stops right in front of me, so close that I have to strain to lift my eyes high enough to see him. I have a strong desire to cower away from his enraged face, but I’m unable to.

He lifts my wand into the air. “If I hand this back to you, you may never attempt to take my life again.”

His voice is light, but I know a threat when I hear one. “Only if you never speak of Mrs. Stoico again.”

“Or I can keep you wand—”

“And I’ll find a way to kill you like the Muggles kill each other.”

“I’ll leave you to think it over.”

He starts to leave, and I find myself calling for him to return. Only when he’s in front of me again do I say, “I won’t attack you again, but you can’t speak of Mrs. Stoico. Ever.”

Something akin to a smirk comes to his lips. “If you so much as attempt to take my life again, not even the virtue of being the Dark Lord’s…slave will save you.” He releases the spell that binds me.

I have a feeling he has some ulterior motives for agreeing to my request, but I have to get my wand, and I have to get away from him. “Fine.”

As soon as my fingers close around that familiar walnut wand, I spin around and storm up the stairs. I can’t be anywhere near him right now.


	7. Chapter 7

I close the door to my borrowed bedroom and lock it. My rucksack lies on the floor next to the bed, and with a wave of my wand, it flies to my bed and opens. Clothes begin filling it. I have to get out of Spinner’s End. I can’t stay here with Snape right now because I might break our deal and attempt to kill him again.

There’s a knock at the door, but I ignore it, choosing instead to rush to my bag and sling it onto my shoulder. “Rodgers, open the door.”

“Can’t right now, Professor, so sorry.”

As if he can sense that I am about to do something outrageous, Snape throws the door open. Both of us watch each other, motionlessly, neither of us even attempting to move. Finally, some moments later, he says, “What’s in that bag?”

“Clothes,” I answer honestly. “Enough for a few days.”

“You—”

But I Apparate and miss what he was trying to say. I can’t bring myself to open the doors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, despite how badly I want to. There are things I can’t tell Fred because it would put Snape in danger, and in turn put me in danger. And I can’t handle the thought of lying to him more right now. With a sigh, I Disapparate. I need to see someone who has no connection to the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters, and that is how I find myself standing in front of 3 Grimmauld Place. I don’t let myself look over at Sirius’s vacant home.

I walk up to the door and knock quietly. It only takes a minute for it to open just a crack, enough to reveal a disheveled older woman with her white hair pulled back. “Can I help you?”

“I…I think so. I’m looking for Zoe Accrington. She said she lives here?”

“Yes, yes. What’s your name?”

“Charlotte Rodgers.”

“Wait here.” Then she closes the door.

I wait there for a few minutes until the door opens again. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again!” Zoe exclaims.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t been writing, it’s just—”

“No, no, don’t worry. An owl wouldn’t be very inconspicuous, now would it?” She steps aside. “Come in. I’m currently renting the upstairs bedroom.” Although it’s on the same street as Sirius’s house and actually just a few houses down, this place is smaller. Very similar in design, but I think 12 Grimmauld Place might have charms on it to be larger. “Thanks, Mrs. Grenovich!” she calls to the kitchen as we pass it.

“Of course, dear.”

“I just sold this place to Mrs. Grenovich and her grandson with the condition that I can rent the upstairs bedroom for the next couple of weeks until I can get everything sorted to move to Hogsmeade. I’ve worked it out faster than I thought I would, but I just don’t want to leave just yet.” She waves her wand at her bedroom door before we enter. The place is covered in boxes from floor to ceiling, a lone mattress in the corner. “As you can see, most of the furniture will be left behind. I sold it with the house. Honestly, I think Mrs. Grenovich and her grandson are on the run from someone, but who am I to ask them?”

“You wanted to get rid of everything?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to start new. Living here with the ghosts of my parents is—difficult. Especially now that my granny isn’t around anymore.”

I swallow. That would certainly be hard to live with. “So you’re moving to Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, I found a small flat I’ll be living in until I can save up enough to buy an inn of my own, or convince Madam Romserta to expand hers. I’ll be working at the Three Broomsticks. Did you know that Dumbledore has a brother? Because I didn’t until a week ago when I almost got a job at the Hog’s Head. His name’s Aberforth.”

I place my bag down on the floor. I really shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have left Spinner’s End. But now that I’m gone, I sure as hell won’t be going back just yet. In order to uphold my end of the deal with Snape, my promise not to try to kill him again, I need to be away from him for a while.

“All right, Charlotte, spill it. What’s going on?”

“That obvious?” She sits down on the edge of her mattress and motions for me to take a seat next to her. I oblige and lower myself to the floor. “I just had to get away from them for a bit.”

“Your family?”

“The Grenoviches magical?”

She shakes her head but waves her wand at the door anyways.

“I’ve been lying to you, and I need to rectify that. I feel that we are kindred spirits, and I feel like I can trust you. And it helps that you are in no way affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix, which the group against You-Know-Who and his minions, or the Death Eaters,” I say. “Some of this…some of this I haven’t even been able to tell Fred, so please keep it all to yourself.”

“The Gryffindor doesn’t know?”

“No.” She nods understandingly. “My parents didn’t really abandon me—I mean, they did, but not in the way I implied.” I hurry through a quick explanation of how I discovered that my parents are Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

“That explains you and Malfoy.”

“Yeah, but that…that isn’t what I’ve been unable to tell Fred.”

“So he knows who you really are then?”

“Yeah.”

“What couldn’t you tell him then?”

I take a deep breath. “IwaschosenbyVoldemorttobearhischild.”

She is silent for a moment before a soft, “What?”

“I was chosen—”

“No, I heard you. I just… Why you? Why did he choose _you_ to torment that way?”

“Because I am the pureblooded daughter of his greatest soldiers and supporters—the Lestranges. And it was a punishment for my mother because she loved me almost as much as she loved him.”

“And you can’t get out of it?”

I shake my head.

“So…if your parents are the Lestranges, where have you been staying?”

 _Should I tell her the truth?_ “I was supposed to be staying with the Malfoys, Bellatrix, and Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, but I convinced Voldemort that it would be beneficial for me to go live with someone else so I could…so I could learn how to duel—he had said something about wanting me to learn a more proficient way to duel—and I convinced him only one of his Death Eaters could be trusted to do that.”

“And who is that?”

I swallow. “Well—he’s also a part of the Order of the Phoenix though he denies it, but I don’t know which side of the war he’s more loyal to, and I don’t think anyone knows, really. It’s Professor Snape.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ve been staying with Snape?”

“No one else knows that either. He’s the one I had to get away from. He’s been teaching me nonverbal spells…and he said some things to me about my past…and I snapped. I tried killing him. We got into a fight. I had to get away from him. At least for a few hours.”

“And the bag?”

“I thought about going to Fred’s and staying...but I can’t tell him the truth about everything because Snape’s a double agent for one side of this war and I don’t know which side he’s on. And if something happens to Snape because of me, I won’t last long. And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Her eyes dart away from me, and she whispers, “I know I don’t have much here right now, but you’re welcome to stay if you want.”

I sigh with relief, not realizing how nervous I had been about going back to Spinner’s End. (I can’t bring myself to go to Andromeda and Ted because I don’t want them to worry any more about me than they already do. Besides, how could I explain to them that I got away from the manor and the Death Eaters there? No one would believe it.) “I really appreciate it,” I breathe.

She smiles. “Of course, you’ll have to help me take some of the boxes to Hogsmeade. Can you Apparate?”

“Yes.”

She narrows her eyes but doesn’t question it. “Great.”

I spend three nights at 3 Grimmauld Place with Zoe, helping her pack up the rest of her belongings (“I’m not charging you to stay here, so you’d better help out, Madam Lestrange—okay, okay, I’ll never call you that again!”), but on the morning of my fourth day here, I know that it’s been long enough and that if I don’t return soon, Voldemort might found out that I left. And if he finds out, I’m sure I’ll be forced to stay in the Malfoy cellar, and I will die before I’m trapped there again.

I lift my rucksack onto my shoulder. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“No need to thank me, Marcus.”

I smile at her. “I feel like your nicknames are—”

“Did you expect me never to act on the fact that you were named for Marcus Aurelius?” She walks with me to the front door.

I roll my eyes, almost regretting ever sharing that with her. “Anyways, I don’t know what I would have done had I been trapped with Snape these past few days. So thank you, again.”

“‘ _Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears_.’ Don’t let Snape get to you, Charlotte. Whatever he says, you can ignore it.”

“I swear to God, Zoe, if that is another of his quotes—when did you even have time to look these up? I’ve been with you constantly since I told you about the Aurelia thing.”

She laughs. “I didn’t have to look it up. I read his _Meditations_ nearly five times in the month following my parents’ deaths. Now I read it whenever I’m feeling…particularly nostalgic.”

I…had not expected that at all. “What are the odds?” I quickly wrap my arms around her, this one person who is not connected to either of the opposing sides of this war, who knows the full truth about me, who invited me into her home so I could get away from Severus Snape. Then I pull away and say, “Send me an owl when you get everything moved to Hogsmeade.”

“I will.”

She closes the door behind me, and I Disapparate. Really, I should have Disapparated from Zoe’s room, but I was afraid Mrs. Grenovich would have questioned why she didn’t see me leave.

Rather than going back to Spinner’s End just yet, I choose to go to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I’m walking around the shop, simply glad to once again be around the jokes created by Fred and George. “Charlotte?” I look over and see George handing something to a customer before leaving him and approaching me. “We didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I just had to get away, you know?”

He looks at me suspiciously, his eyes drifting to the bag I'm holding. “And just how long have you been away?”

“Charlotte!” Fred’s voice interrupts me before I even have a chance to answer George. He’s on the second floor, smiling down at me. Then he rushes towards the steps to meet me and George.

I throw my arms around him. “It’s so good to see you!”

His face becomes rather serious. “Where’ve you been?” I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. “Malfoy’s been here five times in the past three days to see if you were here.”

“Draco came here?”

“Yeah, said you just took off and he hasn’t been able to find you since.”

I smile. “I had to get away from him. He was pissing me off. So I went to Zoe Accrington’s place. They wouldn’t suspect me there. Draco obviously suspected that I’d come here.”

Fred and George exchange a short laugh. “Next time,” George says, “you _should_ come here. We’d love to hear all about your fights with Malfoy, and we won’t tell anyone if you’re here.”

And I have no doubt that they’re telling the truth.

“If you’re not hiding away from the Malfoys tomorrow,” Fred says suddenly, “you should come with us to the Burrow and meet Bill and his fiancée.”

“I—”

“ _Charlotte!_ ” a voice growls. The twins and I turn toward the irritated voice to see none other than Draco Malfoy storming at us, a look of fury on his face that I have never before seen on him. “ _Charlotte Rodgers._ ”

“ _Draco Malfoy_ ,” I reply coldly.

He exhales slowly, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenching. Then he points an accusing finger in my face. “You’re coming with me. And there will be no arguments.”

“And you expect to just force her to walk out of her against her will, do you?” Fred asks.

“She has no choice in the matter.”

“Then you’ll have to take on the three of us,” George says.

Draco sneers. “No, I won’t. But if Charlotte refuses to come with me, I’m afraid dearest Bellatrix has been given permission to Cruciate the Weasley family until she does.” I huff at him, but I know there is no use in arguing. Especially not that my mother has free reign to— _she knows I’m with a blood traitor._ I try to breathe evenly but soon realize that I can’t. Draco seizes the opportunity to torment me more. “That’s right, Rodgers. Now come with me, or I shall have to inform her of what you’ve done.”

“Fine.”

I start to walk with Draco, but Fred grabs my arm. “Charlotte, don’t do this, they’ll punish you for leaving, won’t they?”

“I’ll be okay. They can’t do too much to me because Voldemort wants me alive and well.” Maybe. I don’t really know, but if he needs me to have his baby, he needs me alive at least. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll contact you as soon as I can. I’ll try to make it to the Burrow tomorrow.” If the Burrow is even still standing. If Bellatrix knows about me and Fred, then Voldemort will soon learn as well. The Weasleys are in grave danger. Because of me. But maybe…maybe if I go back to Voldemort and beg for mercy and swear to serve him willingly and loyally as long as he spares them… I don’t know if it would even work, but it’s the only chance I’ve got right now.

Fred leans forward and swiftly kisses me, but Draco grabs my arm to drag me along with him, successfully yanking Fred and me apart. “Stop wasting time.” I walk with a silent scowl as he escorts me out of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and down an alley, constantly glancing over his shoulder. It’s not until we’re completely alone that the tension seems to drain from his face. Without a word, he grabs my arm, and we Disapparate.

“Since when can you—” My question dies immediately in my throat when I take in my surroundings. We’re at Spinner’s End.

“ _What the hell were you thinking?_ ” he snarls.

“Where’s Snape?”

“Professor Snape,” he corrects me. “It is Professor Snape to you, Rodgers.”

“Bloody hell. How’d you get Draco’s hair?”

Snape’s skin begins to boil before my eyes. His hair turns black and grows, his nose elongates, his skin becomes sallow once more. And he’s Severus Snape again. “Had the Dark Lord—or your mother, for that matter—learnt that you ran off, do you realize how much danger you would be in? Do you realize that you would be locked up in Malfoy Manor, or worse?”

“You sound like you actually care,” I scoff.

“If you escaped under my watch, what do you think would happen to me?” He waves his wand. “You won’t be leaving Spinner’s End without my permission ever again.”

I turn around and start towards the stairs. Snape doesn’t stop me. I close the door to my borrowed bedroom and lock it, even though I know it will do no good. I crawl onto my bed and begin practicing the Water-Making Spell.

The next afternoon is when I finally force myself to leave the bedroom. Snape is in his armchair in the sitting room, as always, reading today’s copy (or at least I believe it is today’s copy) of the _Daily Prophet_. I go over to the edge of the sofa closest to him and take a seat. He slowly lowers the paper, folds it, and sets it on the rickety table. Only after he has resumed his normal position do I say, “I am prepared to put behind us everything that happened a few days ago. I just have one request, sir.”

He waits patiently, so I continue, “Please lift the Anti-Disapparation Jinx so that I may leave and go to the Burrow with Fred to meet Bill Weasley and his fiancée.”

“And why would I reward you for your selfish actions that endangered us both?”

“Because I swear to you on my life”—he raises an eyebrow—“fine, I swear to you on Mrs. Stoico’s grave that I will be on my best behavior for the rest of the holiday. I will do everything that you command without a single complaint. I will be at your beck and call until the fall term of Hogwarts begins. I will be…” I huff at the indignity of it all. “I will be your replacement Wormtail. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. And so help me god, for the rest of the holiday, no matter what you say or do, I will not attempt to kill you again.”

His cruel smile makes me regret pledging this to him. But I want to go to the Burrow. And this is the only way, I suppose. “Are you sure you want to make this bargain with me?” he says softly.

“If it allows me to go to the Burrow with Fred, yes.”

He watches me carefully. “And you think one day with Mr. Weasley is worth a holiday of servitude, do you?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, offering him my hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Snape glances at my hand but does not shake it. “Be back around eight ‘o’ clock.”

“You’re giving me a curfew?”

He doesn’t budge.

“All right, I’ll be back around eight tonight.”

Snape waves his wand, and I waste no time Disapparating. I walk up to the second floor of the joke shop where Fred reorganizes some products, and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. I rest my head against his back. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“Well, it’s good to see you, too, Charlotte, but—”

“Well, this is awkward.”

I look over and see Fred grinning from ear to ear at me and who I now realize to be George. I quickly release him. “I…I’m—”

“Haven’t we told you, Fred?” George puts his arm around me. “Charlotte and I are in love.”

My face is warm, and I can only imagine how red it must be, probably as red as their hair. “Merlin… Fred, I only saw him from behind.”

“So it wasn’t good to see me after the day you’ve had?” George whispers sadly.

“It was good to see you, George, just not as good as it is to see Fred.” I hold my hand out to Fred, and he accepts it, pulling me into his arms and away from his brother.

“If you wanna end things between us, Charlotte, then fine, but don’t come crying back to me when you realize I’m the better twin!”

While waiting for our chance to leave, Fred fills me in on what I have missed recently. Apparently Harry and Hermione are now at the Burrow and will be there for the rest of the holiday. I can’t help but envy them. They get to live at the Burrow with the Weasleys, the good food, and their friends, while I get stuck with Snape, mediocre meals that he summons, and no chance to visit whomever I want whenever I want because of my fight with Snape and the deal I had to make with him to get out of Spinner’s End long enough to meet Fred’s brother.

I mean, yes, I realize that was mostly my fault, but Snape had been trying to provoke me by throwing Mrs. Stoico’s death in my face. And how does he even know some of those details? He hasn’t seen those memories, and I certainly haven’t told him myself.

I put Snape out of my mind as we prepare to make our way to the Burrow.

Bill Weasley is a Curse-Breaker, the twins inform me, and his fiancée, Fleur Delacour, was in the Triwizard Tournament with Harry two years ago.

Honestly, I’m more nervous about seeing Harry again than meeting Bill and Fleur. My mother, the sadistic Death Eater who tortured someone to insanity, killed Harry’s godfather, the man who spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit, the man who only had a few good years after escaping that terrible prison before his life was cut short by his own cousin. Harry will have to hate me on principle. I look like Bellatrix. There is more of Bellatrix in me than I want to admit, and I’m sure others can see it, as I can. And since Bellatrix still wanders this earth alive, Harry unable to kill her and get revenge for Sirius, the Boy Who Lived will have no other choice than to hate me, at least until Bellatrix is dead. Right?

I don’t know. But I’m horrified to face it.

“You’ll be okay?” George asks the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes employee, Verity, a girl with short blonde hair who appears to be roughly the age of Fred and George.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” she assures them.

George nods at her. “Well, if you’re sure, then we’re leaving.”

“Have fun.”

The Weasley twins and I Apparate to the Burrow. We’re walking toward the door when Fred says, “Oh, word of warning, Fleur’s a bit different. Try not to egg on Mum, Ginny, or Hermione too much. Mum hopes to be able to split them up before their marriage next summer. Ginny and Hermione call Fleur ‘Phlegm.’ Of course, Bill doesn’t know that, so don’t let that slip at all.” I imagine it was Ginny that came up with the nickname, considering she came up with the name for Dumbledore’s Army.

From this angle, as we reach the door of the Burrow, I can see four people high in the air behind the house. Ron and Ginny are easy to see, thanks to their beaming read hair. It seems they’re playing Quidditch. “We expect you to see playing Quidditch with us too, Charlotte,” George says.

Fred smiles at me. “Ginny said you’d never flown on a broom until she and Ron had you referee. We can help.”

I just love how the Weasleys so readily accept me. Which is why telling Fred about my duty to Voldemort is something I will continue to put off until I absolutely have no other choice.


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Weasley greets us cheerily at the door, then leads us into the living room where a man with long red hair sits talking with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She has silvery-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. How is it even fair for one person to be so gorgeous? And how is it fair that she is engaged and that I am in a relationship? “Bill, Fred and George are here,” Mrs. Weasley announces.

Bill looks up, noticing us for the first time, and stands to his feet, as does the girl.

“You must be the Charlotte who’s been putting up with Fred these last few months,” Bill says with a smile. “Bless you, he must be a handful!”

Fred clears his throat and says, “You don’t have to respond to that, Charlotte.”

“Oh, but I want to.” Then I smile at Bill. “I’m sure you know how much of a handful he can truly be. You knew him when he was a child, and I can only imagine how much worse he and George must have been.”

Bill leans in close like he has a big secret to share. “I have quite a few stories I can tell you,” he whispers loudly.

“No, he doesn’t! No, no, I promise you he doesn’t. Charlotte, this is Fleur Delacour, Bill’s fiancée.”

“I ’ave ’eard about you.”

I smile nervously at her. “It’s an honor to meet you. You were in the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Were you zere?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

She looks disappointed, and I wish I could do anything to change the past so I could have answered “yes” to her question.

“C’mon, let’s go outside,” Fred says. The twins and I go to the backyard where the Golden Trio and Ginny fly around playing Quidditch. Ginny sees us first and rushes down to say hello to her brothers.

“You three are gonna join us, yeah?”

“Merlin, no! I mean, they will, but I won’t,” I say.

George cuts a glance at me. “What was that, Charlotte? What about our deal?”

“Did I agree to that? Besides, it’ll be uneven teams if I play.”

The others land their brooms as well. “You can take my place,” Hermione offers. “I’m dreadful. You can’t be any worse than I am.”

I shake my head. “No, no, it’s fine. You play. I…I’ll spectate.”

I don’t actually watch them for more than half an hour before I start practicing the Water-Making Spell once more.

“Harry, look out!”

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” Nothing happens.

“Get ready, Ron!”

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” Another failure.

“YES!”

“Good one, Ginny!”

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” A jet of water shoots from the tip of my wand, and my heart stops for a moment. _It worked, it actually worked!_ McGonagall will be so proud of me.

“Charlotte, look out!”

I look up in time to see the Quaffle flying right out at me, and I drop my wand, the jet of water dying off immediately, and catch the Quaffle. “Nice one!” Fred shouts as he swoops down toward me. “Toss it up, love!” I do just that, and Fred snatches the Quaffle from the air and returns to their three-on-three Quidditch match.

Wand in hand once more, I say, “ _Aguamenti,_ ” and another jet of water shoots from the tip. I stop it, then say the spell again, another jet of water appearing.

By the time the six of them land their brooms for dinner, I can successfully cast the Water-Making Spell whenever I try. “We creamed you,” George says as we all walk inside the Burrow.

“Come off it, George!” Ron says.

“This is why we need referees,” Fred says. “You blokes don’t know how to keep score of a Quidditch match to save your lives.”

Hermione frowns. “They beat us by twenty points, George.”

“What? No!” George argues. “That can’t be right.” Hermione cuts him a glance. “Fine. But I don’t know where Ron learnt to be such a good Keeper.”

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all break out into a chorus of Gryffindor’s version of “Weasley Is Our King.”

“Is Bellatrix with the Malfoys?” Harry asks me quietly while everyone noisily makes their way into the kitchen for dinner.

“Yeah, but she’s not too pleased about me being there, so I don’t see her much.” I need to get off the subject of my mother as quickly as possible. “I got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ on my Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. thanks to you.”

He nods kindly. “Still can’t believe you shoved Umbridge into the swamp.”

“You did what?” Mrs. Weasley asks abruptly.

“Our swamp?” Fred laughs.

“You shoved Umbridge into our swamp!” George rejoices.

“It was after she almost got McGonagall killed. She doesn’t remember it, so I’m not sure it even really counts.”

“Sure it does!” Ginny says.

Bill furrows his brow at me. “Why doesn’t she remember it?”

I smile. “A Memory Charm—I learned it a few years back just in case Muggles saw me.” They don’t need to know the truth about why I really taught myself Memory Charms. “I believe Fred said something about you working at Gringotts?”

Bill jumps on the chance to recount to a fresh set of ears his adventures as a Curse-Breaker for the Wizarding Bank.

Bill’s life seems so incredibly interesting, and I listen intently as he recounts stories of his job as a Curse-Breaker. I wonder if becoming an Obliviator will lead to as many excellent stories as Bill has. I certainly hope so. After the life I’ve had, I think I’d like one of interesting or maybe somewhat fun adventures instead of one on the run.

Spending time with all of them here at the Burrow distracts me temporarily from the trouble I will likely be in when I get back to Spinner’s End. Tomorrow starts my life of servitude for the summer, and right now I don’t want to think about it.

I wait a few minutes after eight before deciding to leave. I don’t want to risk angering Snape any more at this point. As I’m standing to leave, I realize that I was foolish to think that Harry would hate me because of my mother.

Once I’ve said my goodbyes to everyone else, Fred says quietly, “Let me walk you out,” and takes me by the hand, leading me to the front door and away from the Anti-Disapparation Jinx around the Burrow. “I’m glad you were able to get away from the manor.”

“I’m sorry I have to leave so early.”

“I don’t want them punishing you.”

“I feel like you’d be a good reason to get into trouble.” I put my hands on his sides and step closer to him.

“What an honor,” he says deeply, his hands moving to my waist. Then he adds, “You fit in so well here…even though you and George are apparently in love? You should’ve told me earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve made a move faster, Fred. I feel like this is on you.”

“I'll try to do better next time.”

He covers my lips with his, pulling me against him with a growl, his tongue tracing the outline of my mouth. I willingly part my lips and let him in, running my hands up his chest and entwining them behind his neck to draw him closer. All I want to do is stay in his arms for a while longer, but I know I can’t do that. “We are definitely no longer even.” He laughs against my mouth. I find myself grinning too.

“I have to head back.”

He sighs and pulls me tighter, burying his face in my neck. “Take care of yourself.”

“I promise.” I press one last chaste kiss to his lips before taking a step away and Disapparating.

The moment I arrive at Spinner’s End, Snape, who seems to have been pacing, looks up and sighs with relief. “I feared you wouldn’t return on time.”

“You feared—I’m just a few—”

“The Dark Lord has requested you back at Malfoy Manor,” he says softly.

I draw in a shaky breath. I’m not ready to face him. I haven’t mastered Occlumency completely yet. I can’t do this. “For—” I clear my throat. “For how long?”

“They didn’t say,” Snape says, his face pained. “But I think it’s safe to assume you will not be staying there. He asked specifically for a meeting with you.”

“But…I…I’m not ready!” I argue, my breathing now choppy. “I don’t think…I don’t think I’ll be able…I mean, I’ve gotten better…but haven’t mastered, of course…not the way you have! He’ll know I’m lying! D-do you think he knows?”

His hands find my shoulders, and he looks into my eyes. “Calm down, Charlotte.” I close my eyes and breathe slowly while he continues in a kind and gentle voice, “I don’t believe the Dark Lord knows about your Occlumency lessons. I do not think he’s calling you to him for punishment. I think he simply…wants to speak with you.”

I nod the best I can.

“You must hurry. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Narcissa is waiting for you in the drawing room at the manor.” He releases me. “She’ll take you to him.”

“You’re not coming with me?” For some unexplainable reason, I think I’ll perform Occlumency better if he is at the manor. I know it’s irrational, but still.

“He asked only for you. You must go. Now.”

I take a shaky breath and Disapparate from Spinner’s End. Sure enough, Narcissa is standing in the drawing room, but she’s with Bellatrix, which I guess I should have anticipated. “Enjoying your time in the Muggle dunghill?” my mother cackles cruelly.

I flash her the strongest smile I can manage. “Yes, in fact I am.” The smile fading from her face, she turns and leaves. I look at Narcissa, and my smile fades as well. My voice is weak when I ask, “Where is he?”

“Through here,” she says quietly. I get the feeling that Narcissa is growing weary of having Voldemort in her home. She takes me by the arm and leads to a place in the manor I have only ever been when Draco gave me a tour of the place over Christmas. She stops at a grand wooden door. “Will you be able to find your way back to the drawing room?” I nod. “I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Why?”

“Just…in case…” she says vaguely. But she doesn’t leave my side as I turn to the door.

I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. With a trembling hand, I knock on the door. “Enter,” I hear Voldemort’s chilly voice come through the door, sending shivers down my spine. I brace myself and enter, the sound of Narcissa’s footsteps silencing as I close the door back. The room is so shockingly similar to the Slytherin common room that it could almost be a replica of the place, which I believe must have been his goal. Voldemort sits in a silver-cushioned armchair by a burning fire. He looks up at me with those red eyes of his, and greets me with a simple, “Dear one.”

“My Lord,” I say with a little bow.

“Come here.” I walk toward him. “Take a seat.” I obey and sit next to the fire in the chair identical to his. A large snake slithers up to my feet, and I tense despite my effort not to. “Nagini.”

“M-my Lord?”

“She is Nagini,” he says conversationally. “She has been a dear friend. She stayed with me after I fell.” The snake goes toward him, and he runs his hand along her. I typically like snakes a good bit, but Nagini unnerves me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before—she’d probably unnerve me even if she hadn’t tried to eat me last Easter. Voldemort watches her lovingly as she slithers up to the fire, where she curls up and stays. “But I did not call you here to meet Nagini, did I?”

I offer him a weak smile though he is still focused on his snake. “I do not know, my Lord.”

He turns to face me, his red eyes boring into me, but he seems to appreciate that I’m smiling at him. “I have assigned your dear cousin Draco a mission,” he says. I listen intently, hoping that maybe he’ll tell me what Draco has to do, but he keeps that detail quiet. “His mission will lead to yours. If all goes well, he will be finished by the Christmas holidays, by which time you will be of age”—I beat down the fear rising in my chest, already guessing what he’s going to say—“and you will be required to fulfill your duty to me.”

I swallow, though my throat resists with all its might.

“If Draco does not succeed by then, it will be later before you can begin _your_ mission.” I don’t know if it’s just me or not, but the temperature in the room has dropped considerably. It’s now almost as cold in here as his voice, and I just want to go back to Spinner’s End and do nothing. I’d even take a screaming match with Snape over listening to Voldemort any longer. “If Draco does not succeed until after Christmas, you will have to wait until the last day in July, the thirty-first.” My breath catches in my throat. “A fitting day,” he continues as if we are talking about something so common as the weather, “the day of Harry Potter’s birth, the day of the fulfillment of my plan.” He seems pleased by this, so I try to seem pleased as well.

All I know is that, at the very least, Voldemort will make me his slave in just under six months. And, at the very most, I have a year before I become his slave. I suddenly feel very nauseated. _I have to find a way to tell Fred._ I have to find a way to tell…anyone, really. I need someone to talk to. My heart starts to race. I can’t do this. I can’t fulfill this duty. Would it be better for Voldemort to just kill me right now? If I refuse to let him do this to me, he’ll kill me, right? Or will he lock me up and force me to go along with this plan of his anyway? Perhaps I should let him kill me.

But I think about Zoe and Fred and McGonagall…I can’t let Voldemort kill me because I am afraid. I can’t do that to them, not after all they have done for me. And what an insult that would be to the memory of Sirius, a man who faced death with no fear, a man who taunted his attacker until his final breath…

My lungs don’t want to work. Everything has slowed down, my mind becoming cloudy, my breathing labored, even the fire’s crackling seems to be slower now. What am I going to do? _There’s nothing I can do..._ Tears sting in my eyes. _I will not cry. I will not cry. Voldemort will not see me cry about this._ He must believe I want to do this. There is no other way.

“There is no need to fear me,” Voldemort says almost kindly.

“I know—I just—” I exhale. “I’m trying not to, my Lord. I am.”

Nagini slithers over to me and brushes against my leg, and I flinch away from her. “She makes you nervous.”

“A—a bit, my Lord. I’m sorry, she just—”

He says something, almost hisses it, but I don’t understand what’s happening. Then suddenly, Nagini slithers away from me and curls up on the other side of Voldemort, out of my sight. A breath escapes me, and I incline my head to him in what I hope is a motion of respect. “There is no need to fear me. Or your duty.”

A sharp image of his hand striking my face flashes through my mind, but I push it down. “I’m trying not to,” I say quietly. “I want to be brave, but I’m scared.”

“I will not hurt you.” I wipe a tear before it can slide down my cheek, then cover my mouth with my hand. “And there is no need to cry.” I nod at him, unable to speak. His red eyes stare at me. “Has Severus been teaching you well?”

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

He nods. “Good. What has he been teaching you?”

“Non—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat to try again. “Nonverbal spells.”

He gives me his version of a smile. “That is good. One day, I suspect, you will surpass even your mother Bellatrix.” _Doubtful._ “Tell me, dear one,” he continues. I really wish he would referring to me as that, but even more I wish he would just let me leave now. “Are you becoming quite skilled in the art of dueling?”

“I like to think so, my Lord.”

“When you learn more, I would like to see you duel you mother once more,” Voldemort says. “You might very well take Lucius’s position…”

“If—if that is what you want, my Lord.”

Voldemort watches me for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. “You may go, Charlotte.”

I stand, bow, and say, “Thank you, my Lord.”

I evacuate as quickly as I can without running the risk of disrespecting him. My composure breaks when I close the door behind me, successfully closing myself off from Voldemort. _I can’t do this._ I pull out my wand. I could kill myself right now and not have to worry about any of it. I could end it all, and I would never need to have the child of the Dark Lord. I will never have to face this destiny. I will never be forced to do this. But I can’t… I slide the wand back into my robes. A sob breaks through my chest. Tears come freely now, and I start to run, trying to put as much distance between me and that devil as possible.

I run straight in the direction of the drawing room. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back to Spinner’s End, and the sooner I get back to Spinner’s End, the sooner I can collapse on my bed and sob for a while without Voldemort finding out about my reluctance to serve him. I crash into someone as I make my way to the drawing room, and I’m in too much of a daze to see who it is until I hear the calloused voice growl, “Watch where you’re going!”

Our eyes meet, and without another thought, I throw my arms around her, sobbing into the crook of her neck, and weep. “Mum.”

Bellatrix is frozen where she stands, more tense than I have ever known anyone to be. I don’t know what I’ve just done or what I’m doing, but I can’t stop myself from pulling myself tighter to my mother, unable to prevent my hiccoughs and tears. As confused as I am about my actions, I am even more confused when Bellatrix wraps her arms back around me, drawing me even closer to her, one of her hands behind my head, almost as if she’s cradling me in her arms. Then I hear a very faint, breathy, “Aurelia.”

“Mum!”

Her other hand rubs my back gently, whispering, “It’ll be fine.”

I clench my fists together against her back, a sense of comfort in her arms that I hadn’t expected. She’s my mother. And she’s holding me in her arms. “I’m so scared.”

Mum pulls away from me, puts her hands on my cheeks, wipes my tears with her thumbs, and looks deep into my eyes. “My daughter,” she says quietly, a sense of wonder in her voice. “Aurelia, you _will_ be okay.”

“How do you know?”

Bellatrix wipes away my flowing tears again. “Because the Dark Lord cares very much about your well-being. He won’t harm you.”

I remove her hands from my face and hold them in mine, then timidly ask, “Do you think forcing me to have a child is not harming me?”

Her face becomes slightly angry. “That’s a privilege!”

“It’s a curse!”

Bellatrix releases my hands, her face becoming calloused once more. “You disrespectful little whelp. When will you realize the gift you have been given?”

“When I no longer have to go through with it! When Harry Potter destroys Voldemort once more, and I don’t have to have his child!”

Her face flares with fury. She goes for her wand, but Narcissa walks in before she can attack me. “Bella, what are you doing?” Bellatrix rounds on her sister. Narcissa registers how angry her sister is and continues calmly, “What’s happened?”

I look her in the eye and struggle out, “He…he’s chosen…a day…”

“A day?” Then her eyes flash with understanding. “Oh Ch—”

“And the ungrateful child wants to get out of it! The greatest privilege anyone could have, and she wants to get out of it!” Her head turns toward me. “Aurelia, what’s wrong with you? Can you not see what you have been given?”

“I see only what’s being taken away from me!”

Bellatrix makes to aim her wand at me once more, but Narcissa shouts, “Bella, no!” My mother stops, glares at the both of us, then storms out.

As she turns the corner, I find myself shouting after her, “IT’S CHARLOTTE! I WILL _NEVER_ BE AURELIA!” I stare into the empty corridor that had just held Bellatrix until Narcissa’s hand forces my face to meet hers.

“Charlotte,” she says calmly, “what did the Dark Lord say?”

I take a deep breath. It’s all coming back to me at alarming speeds. _There is no escape._ “If Draco succeeds before Christmas…it will happen over the holidays,” I whisper.

“And if he does not?”

“The thirty-first of July,” I croak.

The thought sinks in. I have a year at best to be free and live life the way I want to. I’m sixteen years old, and my life will end in less than a year. There is nothing I can do; there is nothing _anyone_ can do. When Voldemort wants something, he gets it. He wants me to bear his child, therefore I will. I vaguely hear Narcissa saying my name, but I am staring into the abyss that is my life and cannot pull away. I’m on the edge, about to fall in, and no one is around to save me when I do.


	9. Chapter 9

“Charlotte,” Narcissa says kindly. Gentle hands take my shoulders, and suddenly Narcissa’s face is in front of mine. “Charlotte, would you like to leave now?”

“Where will I go?” I whisper.

“Back to Severus, back to Spinner’s End.”

“He won’t understand.” I back up to the wall, sink to the floor, and hid my face in my knees.

Narcissa crouches in front of me, and she takes my head in her hands and forces me to look at her. “Would you prefer to stay here?”

My breathing hitches, and my mouth opens in horror. I feel myself shutting down, and I’m powerless to stop it. So I close my eyes and just wait. I wait for my heart to stop beating, for my lungs to stop accepting air, for darkness to consume me. I can’t face this. I can’t do what Voldemort wants me to do.

Then, unexpectedly, I am forced into a small tube, my ears popping, but I keep my eyes closed. Wherever Narcissa is taking me, I don’t want to know. I want to pretend that I’m back on the floor in Malfoy Manor, silently shutting down and preparing to die. I land on the ground but still refuse to move or even my open my eyes. Narcissa huffs at my lack of cooperation, but I can’t bring myself to move because it takes all of my focus and energy to remember to breathe. “Charlotte!” Narcissa growls impatiently. “Get up!”

“I can’t,” I cry.

Hands slide under my arms and haul me to my feet, and I’m distantly aware of a magical force keeping me upright while she drags me somewhere. At least I think magic is keeping me upright, because I’m certainly not doing it on my own. At this point, there is only one thing I am sure of, and I don’t want to dwell on it, but I find myself being able to do nothing else. _Voldemort._

I hear a door open, but I refuse to look around to see where I’m going. I already know where I’m going, in the long run at least; I know what my future holds, and there is nothing I can do to get out of it. If Narcissa is taking me somewhere to kill or torture me, then so be it. I’d rather go through the Cruciatus Curse until insanity than go through bearing Voldemort a child. Perhaps I can antagonize my mother until she willingly Cruciates me to the breaking point and I wind up in St. Mungo’s with the Longbottoms. Then, even if Voldemort forces me to have his child, I won’t be aware of it. “What happened to her?” a voice asks. Then I’m forced into a hard chair. I feel a table in front of me, and I immediately fold my head into my arms and rest it on the table’s surface.

Narcissa rubs my back for a second. “Come with me.” I don’t move, and she doesn’t try to make me, which makes me believe she wasn’t speaking to me. Her voice fades off.

My sobs return.

One of the things I regret the most now was falling into the arms of Bellatrix, the arms that, for a moment, had been those of a real mum. And for a short second, I had a thought that the two of us could escape Voldemort. If anyone can escape him, it’s Bellatrix Lestrange. My hopes had soared higher than ever before, and then crashed harder than they ever have when Bellatrix and I argued again.

Narcissa’s hand rests on my back again, and she softly says, “Charlotte.” I hear the movement of two chairs being occupied.

“Wh-what?” I moan, my body trembling from my crying.

“Look at me, Charlotte.” Her voice is kind but final, and I force myself to meet her eyes, knowing she will accept nothing less. The compassion I see there only makes me wail louder. I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the noise and wipe my tears with the other. Narcissa puts her arms around me, and although she is not my mother, her comfort means more to me than Bellatrix’s had. “It will be fine.”

I shake my head. “I d-don’t w-want…to hear…y-your lies,” I choke. “I kn-know…it isn’t.”

She pulls away from me. I look across the table to see Snape watching us intently. I lean back in the chair, wipe my face with my trembling hands, and take a deep breath. All three of us are silent, letting the gloom overtake us. Well, at least I am. I don’t know why _they’re_ so quiet. Snape waves his wand and three glasses appear on the table. He takes one for himself then hands one to both me and Narcissa. “Drink it,” he says.

I look at it. I don’t know what it is, but I take it at face value and turn it up. The taste is good, but it burns my throat terribly. However, the burn is welcome right now, and I quickly finish off my glass.

Narcissa takes a sip. “Firewhiskey?” Then she looks over at me and my empty glass, and her face hardens. “You gave her firewhiskey?” She puts her glass down. It makes sense that she doesn’t want to drink it. She probably only drinks the best of wines. She wouldn’t want firewhiskey. When she throws Snape a dirty look, I reach out to snatch her glass as well, but its’ like she can read my thoughts because she immediately pulls it out of my reach and vanishes the liquid from inside.

The corners of Snape’s lips turn up in what almost appears to be a proud smirk. He meets my eye and, cutting a glance at Narcissa, places his drink on the table. “Takes the mind off things.” I reach forward and grab his glass and drink it. It burns the whole way down, but it seems to bring me back to present situation. Already my head feels fuzzy.

“Don’t let her have anymore,” Narcissa says, her jaw set determinedly. Then she stands and looks at me. “I have to go. I wasn’t supposed to come here.” She puts her hand on my shoulder comfortingly, then looks away as if debating whether or not to say something further. She makes up her mind and says quietly, “Owl me if you need anything.” Her eyes dart to the professor in a silent warning. Then she Disapparates away.

I take out my wand and refill my glass—I might not know where Snape is summoning it from, but I know where some is. I lift it to my mouth, but nothing touches my lips. I glare at Snape, wave my wand again, and try to drink the firewhiskey, but he vanishes it again. I try once more, but Snape continues to take the drink away. “Enough,” he says softly. Again when I refill the glass, Snape takes it away. “You’ve had two glasses. That’s enough.”

“I’m also going to have a child with Voldemort, and yet you don’t seem to be doing anything to stop that.” I try again, but Snape stays firm and won’t let me have anymore. With the nonverbal spell skills that he taught me, I summon something that I know will help me even more than the firewhiskey. A vial of yellow potion flies into the room. I uncork it and drink all of it. “You made me do it.”

“Was that the Elixir to Induce Euphoria?” he asks tightly.

“Sure was.” Then it takes effect, that overwhelming sense of peace taking over me like it did at Hogwarts, but this time it takes over more quickly and more intensely. It’s magnified because of how much I’ve just taken.

I don’t know why I was so upset about Voldemort. It’s really not that big of a deal. Perhaps Bellatrix was right. Maybe it is a privilege. Out of the thousands of his followers, he chose me. Perhaps I am more special than I’ve always thought. Why else would Voldemort have chosen me? I am honored, really. And why shouldn’t I be? I am one of a kind now. I am the daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. No one can replace me.

“I thought you warned me about some type of side effect?” I say airily.

“I did, but I added a sprig of peppermint to try to counterbalance them.”

“A ‘sprig,’” I giggle. Since when do I giggle in front of him? “What a funny word.” I meet Snape’s serious face and mimic it the best I can, dropping my smile and furrowing my brows. Then I laugh again. I can’t keep a straight face like he can. “Did you come up with it?” He doesn’t answer. Again I drop my face to make it as serious as his. And again I start giggling. “How do you keep such a straight face? I can’t seem to do it.” To make my point, I try again and burst into a fit of giggles.

“I heard you spoke with Bellatrix,” he comments.

The smile fades quickly from my face. “I did.” Then I laugh again. “And I think she might be right!”

“About what?”

“Why, everything, Professor!” Another fit of giggles takes over me.

He shifts in his chair. “What is ‘everything,’ Miss Rodgers?”

“‘Miss Rodgers.’ That makes me sound so old.”

“What was your mother right about, Rodgers?”

“I’ve already told you, Professor! Everything!”

Snape pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you tell me specifically what she was right about?”

“Bearing the child of the Dark Lord is privilege. You should know that! You’re a Death Eater! If you were a female Death Eater, wouldn’t you want to have such a privilege?”

Snape clenches his teeth.

“Something wrong, Professor? You seem rather upset.”

He doesn’t answer. I try to mirror his face again, but can’t manage it and wind up laughing. This time, I can’t stop my laughter, and I put my face down on the table and laugh uncontrollably. Nearly five minutes later, with an aching stomach and watering eyes I look up at Snape. His face is still serious, which causes me to laugh even harder.

“I’m irreplaceable, Professor! Isn’t that something to be happy about? Voldemort chose me when he could have chosen one of the thousands of other witches! What an honor indeed! I don’t know why I was so upset before, really. Shouldn’t every servant of Voldemort—”

“Do not use the Dark Lord’s name.”

I imitate his voice the best I can and repeat, “Do not use the Dark Lord’s name. Do not use the Dark Lord’s name.” I wag my finger at him. “ _Do not use the Dark Lord’s name!_ Why not? I’m to have his baby, don’t you think he’d be okay with me using his name? If I was going to have your child, wouldn’t you let me call you ‘Severus’? Wouldn’t anyone, really, let the mother of their child call them by their name? What’s the difference?”

The professor sighs and waves his wand. Something flies into his hand, which he then pours into the glass in front of me. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” I don’t wait for his answer before quickly finishing it off. “That…did you…did you poison me?” My eyes grow heavy, and I can’t think straight. My head collapses to the table.

I bolt up straight up, and my hands fly to my painfully throbbing forehead. I think there might be a bruise. From somewhere deep in my throat I groan, trying to ignore whatever is causing this ache. What happened? I look around and see that I’m lying on the sofa in the sitting room of Snape’s home. He’s sitting in his armchair, as usual, and reading a book. He glances at me. “What happened?”

He sets his book aside. “You drank an entire vial of Euphoria-Inducing Elixir. You wouldn’t stop laughing.” I smile at the thought of my laughter irritating him. “So I gave you bit of a Dreamless Sleep potion.”

I remember, of course. The potions didn’t erase my memory of what happened. _Is there a potion that can do that?_ No, I wouldn’t want it. I’d rather know than be blindsided. I would rather be able to brace myself for the inevitable than live in ignorance until said inevitable finally comes for me. My stomach churns. Voldemort has chosen the day I am supposed to conceive his child. I roll onto my side and vomit onto the floor. Snape grunts before waving his wand and vanishing the mess I’ve just caused. “Sorry, Professor,” I croak. He doesn’t say anything. I lie back down. “Do you have any more elixir?”

Snape frowns at me. “No.”

“Do you have anything?” He waves his wand and hands me a glass. I drink it, expecting it to be more firewhiskey and am deeply disappointed to learn that it is just water. “Thanks,” I mutter dryly, putting the empty glass on the table.

“What did Bellatrix say to you? You said something about but seemed unable to focus on any _one_ thing while suffering from the side effects of drinking all of that elixir.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, not even having the energy to sarcastically mention how it was not _all_ of the elixir because I drank some after the Christmas holidays. “It was stupid.”

Snape doesn’t look convinced. His obsidian eyes penetrate into my soul.

Without backing down, I stare into his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say quietly.

“Occlumency lessons, then?” he suggests.

“I’ve gotten better at them. Are you sure you’ll see the memory you want to see?”

“You hardly managed to stop me when I was putting forth half the effort that I could. Do you think you’d be able to stop me should I put my full effort into it?”

I sigh loudly, then say, “Go ahead. I won’t even attempt to stop you.” I close my eyes. “I want someone to know, I guess.” Tears sting my eyes. _Just in case I start to fall for the idea of her being my mother. I need someone to stop me, to explain how terrible of any idea it is._ “Please.”

“Ready?” he asks me.

“Yeah.”

“ _Legilimens._ ”

_I am sitting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix comes in. We start shouting at each other. Narcissa interrupts Bellatrix from Cruciating me to ask who my uncle was. It comes out that I am Aurelia Lestrange. She offers to Cruciate me until insanity to end my pain of Draco. I shove her off of me and Disapparate from the manor._

I direct him to through my mind.

_Bellatrix and I are dueling in Malfoy Manor._

_Bellatrix throws me in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. I plead with her not to leave me—I call her my mum to guilt her, but it doesn’t work._

_Bellatrix and I are walking through the familiar streets where Snape’s house is located. We’re arguing. She mocks Sirius. She leaves me with Snape._

_Bellatrix is in the drawing room when I get to Malfoy Manor for my meeting with Voldemort. We’re snappy with each other._

_I stand outside the room where my meeting with Voldemort had just taken place. I take out my wand and point it at myself. Then I stop and put it away._

_I’m running through the manor, trying to get away from Voldemort. I run straight into Bellatrix. “Mum,” I cry into her shoulder. Bellatrix wraps her arms around me and calls me Aurelia. I say things about my issue with bearing Voldemort’s child. She releases me. We argue more, her calling my duty a privilege, me calling it a curse. She takes out her wand. Narcissa stops her. Then Bellatrix storms off._

I have to stop him now. I lean back against the sofa. “I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper.

“You called her your mum.”

“Because for a moment, I wanted her to be,” I admit. “Because I wanted to believe, even if only for a short time, that I have a mother, that there is someone in this world who would claim me as their child and want to care for me as a mother would.” I wipe silent tears off my face and sit up. “But Bellatrix can never be that person, so what’s the point of trying?”

I push myself to my feet with much difficulty and stumble to the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed,” I say, deflated. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what? Occlumency?”

I stop and turn to face him. “Any of it. I can’t do it. I can’t have his child. I can’t escape him. I can’t tell Fred the truth. I can’t. I just…I can’t do it. I’m…” I shake my head at him, tears on my cheeks. “I can’t do any of it, Professor. I give up.”

“And you think that just because you ‘can’t’ do it, you won’t have to? You think the Dark Lord cares if you don’t want to?”

“I know he doesn’t care!” I snap, my heart breaking because—well, maybe because of how nice he was to me during our last Occlumency lesson, I thought he would be more understanding to my situation. But he doesn’t understand. And he won’t. Because no one ever will.

The next afternoon, there comes a knock on my door, but I don’t say anything. I remain lying in my bed, the blankets pulled up to my chin, my eyes staring blankly at the wall across the room. There comes another knock followed by, “Rodgers, you need to eat.”

“Go away.” Instead, he opens the door, his silhouette looming in the doorway. “I’m not hungry.” Part of me is grateful that he’s here, but I think it’s mostly just because I’m grateful that he hasn’t made me his replacement Wormtail this year. Professor Snape is actually showing me pity.

“You missed breakfast and lunch, Rodgers. You must—”

“I said I’m not hungry!”

He steps into the room and places a bowl of soup on the nightstand next to my bed. “You have to keep your strength up.”

“Why? If I do nothing, I’ll be dead in—what?—three days? That’s how long it takes to die of dehydration, right?”

“I’ve never taken you as someone who would let the Dark Lord win like that.”

I meet his eyes. “He’s won either way, Professor. I’ll have his child eventually. He’ll use my child to carry out whatever plans he has, and I’ll have to sit by and watch my child be a tool for Lord Voldemort. And I’m supposed to believe it’s all an honor.” I shake my head. “I’d rather die, sir, than live through that.”

“I can’t let you die under my watch.”

“Then let me Apparate and you can say it happened after I left the manor. They can’t blame that on you. I’ll go somewhere else and die, and you’ll never be held accountable.”

“And you would die and leave Weasley wondering what happened to you? Or Professor McGonagall for that matter? You seem rather fond of her, and she of you. You would die and leave the Tonks family wondering what became of you? You would leave all of them wondering if you were murdered at Malfoy Manor? The Ministry doesn’t even know you exist. No one would ever know what happened to you. Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” I sigh. “If it keeps me away from Vol—the Dark Lord.”

He watches me for a moment before saying, “I don’t believe you would give up your life like that to escape him. You’re a selfish person, Rodgers, but not even you would so disgracefully leave behind those who love you.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No, you wouldn’t. You enjoy your own life too much for that, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Why else would you have spent years on the run rather than just letting yourself die? Why else would you have put the Death Eaters through so much trouble while they hunted for you? Why else would you have fought back or ran instead of letting them kill you or capture you? You enjoy living, and you don’t want to give it up.”

I look away from him. He’s right, of course. I don’t want to die. “Now that my fate is inevitable and I have no chance of escape, I have nothing to live for. Before, I could dream that I would be able to evade the Dark Lord long enough for Harry Potter to destroy him. What are the chances that Voldemort will be dead before Christmas?” I meet his black eyes once more. “Exactly. And if Draco fails to finish his mission before Christmas, what are the chances Voldemort will be dead before July of next year?”

I burrow my way farther under the blankets, leaving only my eyes unshielded. “I can’t do this, Professor. I can’t.”

“You cannot let the Dark Lord defeat you.”

I laugh ruefully.

“Don’t let yourself die so you can escape him.” His voice is soft and kind, something I thought I would never say about Professor Snape. “Fight him. As you’ve been learning to do through Occlumency. Fight him and arise victorious. You might find your way out of this yet.”

“I can’t dwell on such fairytales, sir,” I whisper. Then I roll over, turning my back to him. “Voldemort will force me to have his child, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. When the Dark Lord wants something, he gets it. Unless you’re Harry Potter, who seems to always find a way to escape him.” Although, that probably has a lot to do with all the people trying to protect him from Voldemort.

“If you survived on your own from the age of ten to the age of fifteen, living in Muggle homes and caves, providing for yourself, teaching yourself magic, I do not doubt that you can overcome what you must do. You will survive. You might not want to, but you will survive.” His footsteps go toward the door. “You need to eat.” Then he closes the door, leaving me alone.


	10. Chapter 10

I’ve been locked in my little room for four days now. At least, I think it’s been that long. Snape has made no attempt to force me come out, which makes my misery a bit easier, but he _has_ put the Anti-Disapparation Jinx back over his house. I guess he’s afraid I’ll try escaping or something, and honestly, I don’t really blame him for fearing it.

Snape and I no longer interact at all. After the first bowl of soup he brought me, we came to a silent agreement. He knocks on the door, places the food on the floor, and leaves quickly enough so we need not speak. And I have to say that I am most grateful for this. I can’t look anyone in the eye right now, not with the knowledge of what is coming.

He only tried to get me to talk once more after our conversation, but I couldn’t bring myself to say a word. He hasn’t tried since.

Today, though, he breaks our silent agreement. Rather than leaving after knocking on the door, he slowly pushes it open. “You can’t let yourself waste away,” he says softly. As if he can even imagine what I’m going through right now. I say nothing, simply choosing to watch him instead. His jaw clenches, and he stands completely still, not moving at all, except for the fingers of his right hand which anxiously tap against his thigh. “Shall I send you to the Burrow? Or to the Tonkses? You can’t wither away in here. You are not allowed to give up.”

“Not today,” I whisper. It’s the first words I have spoken in four days, and my throat is reluctant to allow any sound to escape.

“So you _can_ speak.” I tighten my grip on the blankets and close my eyes. Snape sets a meager breakfast of toast and eggs beside my bed. “You have until the end of the week to leave this room before I force you out.” Then he walks out of the room and closes the door.

I have three days to pull myself together.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Had Snape not given me a deadline, I’m sure I would have been content to lie here until my death. If only I was allowed such an escape from Voldemort.

It’s nearly time for me to admit all of my lies to Fred, I suppose. Now that I know _when_ Voldemort plans to force me to fulfill my duty, I don’t think I can keep it from Fred any longer. I haven’t seen him in days, not since I met Bill and Fleur.

It’s better that he learn the truth from me rather than from anyone else.

With a frustrated groan, I sit up in the bed. According to Alphard’s pocket watch, it’s nearly nine ‘o’ clock. Fred will be working now. Perhaps I should wait to tell him.

 _No, Charlotte_ , I scold myself, _you cannot put this off any longer._

I force myself to roll out of the bed. Then I go to the bathroom to freshen up before I go to see Fred. I can’t show up reeking of four days’ worth of self-pity.

When I finally descend the steps, my uneaten breakfast in hand, I find Snape sitting in his armchair, of course, and watching the stairs as if he knew I would be coming down them. “It’s good to see you’re living,” he says.

“Well, I did speak to you less than an hour ago.” I look away from him. “I…I need you…to lift the Anti-Disapparation Jinx.”

“What for?” he asks.

“I…I need…Fred…I have to tell him…” I struggle to find the words.

“And you expect me to trust that you will return?”

“I returned after meeting Bill Weasley and his fiancée. And that was a much more enjoyable time than what I have to do today.”

He looks like he’s about to refuse to let me go, but then he gives me a slight nod. “You may go later,” he says. “You haven’t been practicing Occlumency as you should be, and with the new information you have just learned, wouldn’t you agree that it has just become more important?”

I nod reluctantly. At least I won’t be interrupting Fred at work today. I can go after the shop is closed.

“But you must eat first.”

I sit down on the sofa and manage to only choke down a few bites. I look up and ask quietly, “Will Harry be able to stop Vol—” His look stops me from saying Voldemort’s name. “Will Harry be able to stop the Dark Lord by this time next year?”

“I would hope not.”

“You can drop the whole Death Eater façade, Professor. I know you’re a part of the Order of the Phoenix. It’s just us right now.”

Snape grimaces at me. “How many times must I tell you that I am not a part of that?”

“I’m going to learn the truth when I join the Order in a few months anyway. So you might as well go ahead and admit it.”

“What do you mean you’re going to join the Order? Under whose authority?”

“When I turn seventeen, I’ll join. I’ll be of age. Dumbledore started the Order, yeah? I have friends in it. I’m sure I’ll be able to join. So go ahead and answer my question. Will Harry be able to stop the Dark Lord?”

Snape doesn’t answer.

“Okay.” I look him in the eye. “Why did you let me see the memory of you taking the Unbreakable Vow?”

“Like I said before, I did not ‘let’ you see anything.”

“Sticking to that lie, I see.” His irritated look stops me from saying anymore because I can’t risk him preventing me from going to see Fred. “What’s left for me to learn in Occlumency? I know how to keep you out of my mind now.”

“Just a few more key lessons.”

“And then we’re done?” I ask, slightly excited at the idea of being able to finish this.

“We will continue to work on it. It is essential that you completely master the art of Occlumency.”

That excitement was short-lived. I really hoped I could claim to be a master of Occlumency after that and be done with it. I’ve only worked so hard so I can stop the lessons. Now he tells me that I must continue either way. I sigh. So close…so very close. I set aside my plate, most of the food still on it, and stand. “I believe I’m done eating.”

He nods, and we go down to the basement, the professor waving his wand and making his potion things disappear before going to the far side of the room, as usual.

“Think of a time in your life that could have gone differently,” Snape says. “I want you to take that memory and create different outcomes. I should be unable to determine which is real and which are not. You must be able to alter your memories at will without a skilled Legilimens being able to detect that you have done so.”

“And I must be able to do that to hide all truth from the Dark Lord?”

“Precisely. Ready?” I take a second to decide which memory to show him, and once I have an idea of how to change it, I nod at him. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

_I’m sitting in a Muggle home. I’m twelve years old. There is a large Christmas tree, decorated in blue and white ornaments, lit up by the window, and I am on the floor in front of it, the light reflecting in my eyes. I’m smiling at it, not bothered in the slightest that none of those fabulously wrapped gifts belong to me. “What are you doing?” an angry man’s voice breaks through my happiness. I look over and see him holding a knife in one hand and a phone in the other._

_“Please,” I say. “I’m sorry! It’s just…the tree…it’s so beautiful…”_

_He grunts at me and presses a button on the phone. “I’m calling the police,” he says cruelly._

_“Don’t,” I plead. He continues calling, and I am left with no other choice. I whip out my wand, ignoring his laughter when he sees it, and shout, “_ Stupefy!” _The spell blasts the man into the wall and renders him unconscious. A woman comes running, screaming her husband’s name, crying slurs at me. She thinks me a demon of some sort. A young child stands at the top of the steps, wailing. My eyes widen. I cast a memory charm and run from the house._

I show Snape the same memory three more times, but I change it slightly each time.

In the next one, I Apparate away as soon as the man sees me and threatens to call the police.

In the third one, I silence the man, cast a memory charm, and run from the house.

In the last one I show Snape, the man comes out, threatening to call the police. I Stun him, and he falls down, his head smashing against the hearth. Blood starts pooling around his head, and his wife, now in the room, starts screaming. I panic and blast the woman with a spell that sends her flying backward with great force. There comes a bone-chilling crack, and she falls lifeless. The child shrieks in pain as he falls to the floor, and I know that I can’t leave him as an orphan like I am. Without thinking I cast the Killing Curse.

Then I look at Snape.

His face is dark. “You killed those innocent people.” He sounds utterly disgusted.

My mouth drops.

He points his wand at me. “You don’t know what those people could have meant to another!”

“Don’t act so high and mighty! I panicked! I was twelve! You’re a Death Eater, don’t act like you’ve never killed an innocent person and regretted it!”

A silent spell throws me into the wall.

I whip out my wand and fire the Impediment Jinx at him. He deflects it. I throw up my shield. “I was twelve! I didn’t know what I was doing! Have I killed people? Yes. But you can’t hold them against me! I’m beyond that now!” _Why did I have to show him that memory?_ I should have waited until I was more skilled at altering my memories. I thought…just maybe…if I could convince someone of my innocence in the matter, I could also believe myself to be innocent.

Snape lowers his wand, a deep sorrow in his eyes. “They did nothing to you.”

“I realize that,” I say, lowering my shield. “And I visit their graves every year, put flowers on their graves every year, and beg for their forgiveness _every bloody year_.” Tears prick the back of my eyes. “But they can _never_ give it to me, because _I_ killed them. _I_ took their lives. _I_ did that, and there is _nothing_ that can ever be done to change that.” I drop my wand to the floor where it clatters. “So punish me however you see fit.” I open my arms and close my eyes, ready to accept whatever he casts at me.

The attack never comes. Slowly, I crack my eyes at him until I open them completely. He’s watching me intently but doesn’t speak.

“How did you know?” I ask him as I drop my hands back to my side.

“Too much detail,” he replies shortly. “Again. _Legilimens.”_

_Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn’t pull away. Draco rams into the two of us, separating us._

I change the details. _Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn’t pull away. Draco throws the Impediment Jinx at us, separating us._

I change them one more time. _Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn’t pull away. Draco runs towards us, punches Fred in the face, and pulls me away from Fred to ram me into the wall._

“The real one?” I ask Snape.

He watches me for a moment. “Draco used the Impediment Jinx,” Snape finally says after a few moments of silence.

“Why do you say that?”

“I personally don’t see any son of Lucius Malfoy using any kind of physical attack.”

I laugh. “I know where you’re coming from, but you’re wrong. He rammed into us.”

“Well done, Rodgers,” he congratulates me. “Well done, indeed. Keep the details to a minimum. At least until you learn to control them astutely enough that there is no question of their legitimacy.”

Biting my lip, I debate asking Professor Snape a question that I consider important. I decide…why not? When have I ever held my tongue around him? “Professor,” I say. He looks at me expectantly. “I need to ask something, but don’t interrupt until I’m done, please.” He nods suspiciously. “You took the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa to protect Draco—don’t deny that you let me see it. You never told her that you wouldn’t hinder him…if you could find a way to postpone…just until after Christmas…so I can have more time…before…”

“I can make no such promises.” I nod, having expected this answer anyway.

We continue working on Occlumency for the next few hours. I don’t manage to fool him again—apparently I only fooled him before because he didn’t believe Draco capable of a physical attack—and by the time I’m done, I’m even less mentally prepared to speak with Fred than I was before. But I have no choice. It’s time that he learns the full truth.

I postpone it just a short while longer by going back upstairs and showering.

When I enter the living room again, I say, “I think it’s time I spoke with Fred.”

He waves his wand. “The jinx has been lifted.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

I Disapparate.

I’m standing outside Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, which is now closed for the day, the twins rushing about doing whatever it is that they do when the shop is closed. I want to step inside, but I’m too busy trying to figure out how I am to tell Fred the truth. All I see are the bad situations, such as, _“Hey, Fred, how’s it going? Really? That’s great. Now listen, Voldemort has been at Malfoy Manor since the beginning of the holidays.”_ But it’d probably be best to lead with my duty. Or would it be best to lead details of my past that he does not know, like I did with his mother? But after that, how would I follow up? Should I go straight into my duty, or should I ease him into it?

Perhaps it’ll come to me when I start talking. With that small glimmer of hope, I muster up my courage, swallow down my nausea, and knock on the door. “We’re closed!” George’s voice rings through the air. I knock again. “Come back tomorrow!” I knock again. The door flings open. When George sees me, the scowl on his face turns into a broad smile. “Oh, hi Charlotte! There’s a kid that tries getting in every day after we close. I thought you were him. I’ll go get Fred. Come in.” I enter the shop and follow George as he heads toward Fred. “Look who’s here!”

Fred turns around and smiles when he meets my eyes. “Charlotte! Where’ve you been? I haven’t heard from you in days! I thought I’d have to raid Malfoy Manor and rescue you!” He rushes forward and tightly wraps his arms around me. I savor his embrace while I can, just in case he cannot forgive me for lying to him.

“He’s even been trying to have me help him come up with a scheme to do it!”

“Of course, George had no qualms about the thought of helping me.”

I smile weakly at him. “I’ve been holed up pretty nicely, haven’t I?”

Fred’s happiness fades a bit. “What’s wrong?”

I say, in a very airy voice so I won’t cry, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

He glances at George, who nods and walks off. “Yeah, come on.” He takes me by the hand and leads me through the shop and up to the flat he shares with his brother. Silently, we go to his bedroom, and he closes the door. “What’s happened?”

 _He deserves to know the truth, he deserves to know the truth, he deserves to know the truth_. But no matter how many times I repeat that to myself, I cannot get the words to come out of my mouth. I don’t want to ruin what I have with Fred, and I fear my duty will do just that. I take a shaky breath. “I’ve been on lockdown at the manor,” I begin with another lie. _I am a disgrace._ “Bellatrix and I…we had a fight.” At least that is true. “We…we don’t see eye-to-eye about some things I will be forced to do.”

He takes my hand in his. “What will you be forced to do?”

 _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this_.

I can’t do this. “It’s set in stone now—I had a meeting with Voldemort, who’s been staying at the manor.”

“ _What?_ ” he whisper-shouts. “You can’t stay there anymore! You’re coming to live with me and George, or mum, or Tonks, or someone in the Order. But you’re not staying there. Not with—you can’t live there—I thought it was unsafe before but with him—he’s unpredictable, what if—no, no, you can’t live there, not with You-Know-Who!” He jumps to his feet. “Come on, we’re going to speak with—” I pull him back down, and he looks at me with such confusion that I desperately want to tell him everything. _But I can’t._ “What’s—”

“I can’t live anywhere Voldemort would not approve of. But where I’m living is hardly the problem right now.” I pull his hand onto my lap and hold it tightly. “I’ve been chosen, Fred, and there’s nothing I can do about it. He confirmed it in our meeting. Until that moment, I had been holding onto a hope that I would escape it.” I absentmindedly rub his hand. “I…” _I can’t do this._ “He’s decided that I am to take the Dark Mark next July. And if I don’t…he’s threatened to hurt those I care about. I will be forced to carry out his orders, regardless if I want to.” So, I mean, it’s only a half-lie, but _I hate myself for lying to him._ And yet _I can’t tell him the truth._

“Charlotte,” he says with a comforting smile, “you’ll still be you. It’s not like you’re choosing to do what he wants you to. He’s forcing you to.” I can’t even look him in the eye. I am an awful person. With his free hand, he touches my cheek and turns my face back to his. “I don’t care what You-Know-Who makes you do. You’re still just Charlotte to me. Well, Charlotte Rodgers slash Aurelia Lestrange. But what matters is that you’re you.” Then he leans down and covers my lips with his, and I want to throw myself off a building.

_I am an awful person._

We break apart, and Fred simply holds me close to him. But I can’t enjoy being with him right now because of the lies I have been spewing for the past few months, so, naturally, I tell another lie. “I have to be back at the manor soon.”

Fred stands up with me. “And you’re sure you’re safe—well, not safe, because you can’t really be safe at the manor anymore—you’re sure you’re okay going back with You-Know-Who there?”

“Well, I don’t really have much of a choice, but will it make you feel better if I say I’m okay with it?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’d rather you tell me the truth if you’re scared.”

I swallow. “Well, I am a bit scared, but if he wants me to serve him, I have to be alive.”

“Good point.”

“But I really should be going.”

He takes me hand for a moment. “I love you, Charlotte. You know that, don’t you?”

“I had my suspicions.” I hate myself. “And for the record, I love you too.” _Do you though? How could you lie to him like this if you loved him?_

He kisses me once more before I leave.

But I don’t go back to the manor. Or even to Spinner’s End. I Apparate to Zoe’s flat in Hogsmeade. If I can’t tell Fred the truth, I can tell her—that way I don’t feel like a complete liar. If I can just tell the truth to one person who means a lot to me, perhaps I will be able to forgive myself.

Only, Zoe isn’t in here. Boxes still fill every corner of her flat, as if she’s been far too busy to clean it all away. I’m about to Apparate away, slightly disappointed that I didn’t get to talk to anyone about my issues but almost relieved that I won’t have to speak of it, when I hear a _pop!_ behind me. “Merlin, God, what the hell?” Zoe’s voice exclaims, a brown bag falling from her hands and landing on the floor.

I turn and smile apologetically. “I’m so sorry.” My voice is weak. “I just…needed to talk.”

“Something you couldn’t tell the Gryffindor?”

“Yeah…”

_How dare I tell Zoe the truth and not Fred?_

I’m an awful person.


	11. Chapter 11

Zoe and I are sitting at her small mahogany kitchen table in her loft, which is just a short walk from the Three Broomsticks. It’s been silent for almost ten minutes, basically since I told her about my meeting with Voldemort. Zoe’s been looking down at her hands with a horrified, sickly expression, while I’ve been trying to look anywhere other than her because I can’t risk meeting her eyes right now.

Out the window to my left is a beautiful view of the village. I can just see the towers of Hogwarts, and I am struck with the strong urge to go see McGonagall. But I don’t _really_ want to. Not right now at least. To my right, spurring from the far wall with the door, two large empty backless bookcases serve as partitions to offer her bed some privacy from the living area that is currently cluttered with boxes, which I’m guessing contains all of the books and knickknacks that will actually block the bedroom area from the living area. “What’re you painting?” I ask her quietly, motioning to unfinished piece of art on the easel against the window opposite the bookcases.

She looks up quickly, terror on her face for a split second, then calms and says, “You’re asking about that _now_?”

“Well, you weren’t speaking, so I thought…why not?”

A sad smile comes across her face. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now though…” Her honey eyes fill with compassion. “Charlotte, be honest with me. Is there anything I can do?”

I shake my head slightly. “Nothing can stop what’s been put in motion.”

Zoe reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You haven’t told the Gryffindor this?”

“I don’t know how.”

“But do you want to?”

“I don’t know that either. I mean, of course I want to stop lying to him, but I don’t really want to tell him what I have to do. What if he views me differently? What if decides he can’t be with me because of it? What if—”

“If he decides not to be with you, is he even worth it?”

I clear my throat. “I love him.” Zoe releases my hand and watches me intently. “And he loves me. I just…don’t want to ruin what we have.”

She smiles deviously and says, “‘ _Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart._ ’ If you can’t change what’s going to happen to you, and you’ve made it rather clear that there’s nothing anyone can do, you’ll have to tell him eventually, you know.”

“I know.” I grin at her. “Stop quoting him. That was one of his, right?”

“Ah, c’mon, Marcus, don’t be such a downer. So why did you decide to tell me all of this?”

I sigh quietly. “You’re not connected to the Order or to the Death Eaters. You’re a neutral zone, and I feel like I need that right now, you know? Someone who isn’t mixed up with either group.”

She nods and offers me a sad smile.

I don’t want to go back to Spinner’s End just yet, despite the fact that it is getting a little late. If I return now, I will have no choice but to admit that today was a failure. I didn’t tell Fred the truth, and instead I told Zoe.

“You need a distraction, don’t you? A reason not to return to Snape’s just yet?”

“Yes, please.”

She gets up and walks to the area behind the bookcases where her bed is slightly hidden, returning just a few short minutes later. Waving her wand, she clears everything off the table and sets down a rolled up canvas. “This is the painting I’m most proud of.” Then she unrolls it, a nervous smile on her face.

I find myself smiling when I see it. A tall, strong-jawed man in a tuxedo smiles lovingly at the woman on his arm whose head reaches his mid-chest, a woman who looks shockingly like Zoe. She wears a white dress, one that appears to be a wedding dress. The two of them gaze at each other, laughing, caught off guard. “It’s beautiful. Are these…are they your parents?”

“Yes.” A small framed picture flies into the room and into her hand. “It was based on this, taken on their wedding day.” The photo she shows me looks almost identical to the oil painting.

“And you did this, by yourself?”

She nods, a sad smile on her face. “Right after they died. I never let them see any of my paintings… Now it’s too late.”

“Why didn’t you?” I can’t draw my eyes away from her parents. They were so in love, and happy. And from how Zoe seems to miss them, I can only assume they were good parents. That familiar envy stirs in my chest. She had a family. She was loved by her parents. _And I am not._

“I was always shy about it.”

“But it’s amazing.”

She doesn’t reply, and I look up to see her wiping silent tears.

I stand and pull her to her feet as well. Then, still looking at the painting, I wrap my arms around her, not realizing how badly I needed to be held right now as well. “I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

“They always said they were.”

Another stirring of envy. Her parents were proud of her for painting, and mine hates me for living on my own for five years. My parents hate me for teaching myself magic. My parents hate me for learning to live in caves and learning to care for myself. Well, _parent._ But still.

“But I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around,” she says.

She’s been without her parents for a few years now, but at least she had them once. I have to get out here. But I can’t just up and leave right now, that would be rude, wouldn’t it?

I don’t know. I just have to get out of here.

When she pulls away from me, I ask, “What time is it?”

Zoe looks around the room, trying to find a clock that apparently isn’t yet set up. Finally she resorts to summoning her wristwatch from the living area. “Almost eleven.”

I can use Snape as an excuse to get out of here. “I have to head back. I’m not supposed to be out this late—I told Snape I’d be back soon.”

She nods understandingly. “Owl me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I Disapparate.

The moment I arrive inside Spinner’s End, I see Snape walking up the stairs. He turns when he hears the _pop!_ “Back so soon? You surprise me, Rodgers.”

“I couldn’t tell him,” I admit, though I thought I’d be able to keep this from him. The professor comes back down the steps, an odd look on his face. “I know, please don’t lecture me.”

“I didn’t plan on it.”

I don’t want to be alone just yet, which means I have to keep him from going to sleep just yet. And I know what I want to learn—what I would like to be able to do. I don’t know why I want to do it in this moment, but I know that I want to do it. And I know it’ll buy me some time before I have to be alone with my failures. “Could…could you teach me…could—”

“Last time I checked, I’ve been teaching you all summer.”

I smile in spite of myself. “That’s true. But this time…I was just wondering if…could you teach me the Patronus Charm?”

He grimaces a bit. “And you believe you can create one in your current state?”

“Not really, but I don’t want to go to sleep just yet or…be alone.”

He’s silent, and I immediately change my mind about this. I’m about to say so when Snape asks, “Have you had any experience with creating them before?”

“Only non-corporeal.”

“So you know that you must think of the happiest memory you can?” I guess this means he’ll teach me. “That’s good. Most people don’t even know that when they first start to learn.” I don’t want to tell him that Harry tried teaching us last year and that I just failed at it. Snape leads me into the basement and removes all of his potions things as normal. Then he motions around the room. “Give it a try.”

I take a deep breath. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” A little sliver of silver light comes from the end of my wand, but it doesn’t even become a non-corporeal Patronus. I almost don’t care that I didn’t perform it properly because it means that I can be in his presence for just a short while longer before I find myself alone.

“What were you thinking of?”

“When I found out that I am a witch.”

“Think of something else. It must be stronger than that.”

I exhale slowly. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” The non-corporeal form of the Patronus Charm bursts from the tip of my wand. This gives me enough confidence to try again before Snape can say anything. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Again, it is only non-corporeal.

“It’s better. Try again. Make it a happier memory.”

 _Because I have such a large selection of those. This was a mistake. But at least I’m not alone right now, and that makes the failures worth it._ “Can you create one?”

He just watches me, and while he looks slightly angry, I can’t be sure if he actually is because he is such a hard man to read. Then he says, “Yes.”

“What form does it take?”

“Try it again.”

I nod, accepting that he doesn’t want to answer that question. _I can do this_. Voldemort does not have to strip away all of my happiness. I can do this. Fred’s face flashes through my mind. The two of us are standing outside of the Burrow, our arms wrapped around each other. He loves me. And I love him. My heart lightens. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

The same silver light as before comes from the tip of my wand, but after a moment, it disappears. I sigh and give myself a moment to gather my thoughts. Then something else comes to my mind—sitting by the lake and studying for my exams with Zoe and Daphne. I cast the spell again, thinking about our study sessions, and the silver light springs from my wand. For a moment I believe it will simply disappear once more, or stop when it reaches the non-corporeal form. Instead, the silver grows until it forms into a panther that glides across the room. It reaches Snape and bounces away, coming back to me, its teeth bared, its tail flicking back and forth, and stops in front of me. When I reach out to touch it, it disappears, and I can’t bring myself to look away from where it had been to look at Snape.

A smile cracks across my face. I actually didn’t expect to succeed. _Now your lesson is over and you’ll have to be alone once more._

When I finally look back at the professor, he doesn’t look proud like I had thought he would. In fact, his cold face is like stone. “Creating a Patronus under calm circumstances is different than when you are being attacked.”

“I figured it would be, but I’m just thrilled I was able to make one at all.” And it makes me feel like less of a failure—I failed to tell Fred the truth, but at least I did this charm right.

Snape nods. “It’s an accomplishment. Creating a Patronus at all is considered advanced magic.” He dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wand. “Do not be too thrilled, though, Miss Rodgers. We will now begin nonverbal duels.”

A small, grateful smile comes to my face. “Are you sure?”

“You asked me to teach you the Patronus Charm. You accomplished that. Now it is time for the lessons that actually matter. Ready?”

This gives me more time before I’m alone. He knows this, and I think he’s doing this for my benefit. And I’m so grateful though I doubt I’d admit that to him right now. “Um, sure.” We give each other a quick bow and raise our wands.

The first thing I do is cast the Shield Charm for protection. It deflects Snape’s spell and sends it back toward him, but he easily blocks it.

Despite how much I hated him after the Mrs. Stoico memory thing, I have to agree, begrudgingly of course, that nonverbal spells have been much easier for me to perform.

I drop the shield and cast the Conjunctivitis Curse at him, which Snape easily dodges while conjuring a steel ball. The ball soars at me, but I reduce its size and jump to the side, smiling as it whacks the stone wall behind me. I quickly aim my wand back at him and try to expel his wand, and as I expected, he stops the spell and returns one of his own. A red line of light zooms straight at me. I throw up the shield and instinctively leap to the side again.

Birds shoot from the end of my wand and fly toward him. When they get close enough, I silently scream, “ _Expulso!_ ” at each of them, causing each to explode in tiny flames. But when they fade away completely, Snape is still standing, having been guarded by the Shield Charm, looking as if he’s not the least bit tired. _What a waste._ I cast the Stunning Spell at him, but it does no good, again thanks to his shield. Snape casts a spell at me in the same moment I throw the Knockback Jinx at him. My spell hits him, finally, and rams him into the stone wall behind him, while I’m hit with the Bat-Bogey Hex and let out a pained shriek. It takes me a moment to rid myself of them and another moment to stifle down the pain in my nose.

By the time I’ve returned my focus to the task at hand, Snape is standing again and has cast another spell at me. It throws me into the air, smacks me against the ceiling, and slams me into the floor. I quickly put the shield over myself, another of his attacks hitting it and rebounding into the wall while I pull myself to my feet. I point my wand back at Snape and cast one of his own spells at him: _Levicorpus_. It pulls him into the air upside down.

I can almost swear I hear him chuckle before hitting me with the Impediment Jinx and freezing me in place for a moment.

He drops himself onto the floor.

I throw the Stinging Hex at Snape, somehow managing to hit in the leg. He grunts, and I pause for a moment to delight in his pain. But Snape recovers too quickly and retaliates by expelling my wand from my hand. “Never rejoice in a successful attack,” he says softly. “You never know when your victim is simply playing you for a fool, waiting for your moment of pause before finishing you off.”

I nod at him, slightly humiliated that I was so stupid.

“Had this been a real battle, Miss Rodgers, and had I been someone trying to actually kill you, I doubt if you would be standing there now.”

He hands me my wand back.

“You’ve been practicing,” he says as he waves his wand and replaces all of the potion things then goes to the door.

“Every night before I go to sleep.”

He nods approvingly. “We will resume your lessons tomorrow.” As we walk up the steps and out of the basement, he comments threateningly, “Never again use one of my spells against me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Snape seems to be debating something as he closes the basement door and locks it. Then he meets my eye and says slowly, “I will leave the Anti-Disapparation Jinx off my house so long as you do not try to take advantage and run off again.”

I nod at him.

“You will begin your duties as Wormtail in the morning.”

I knew his kind streak wouldn’t extend to our deal. But I suppose I should be grateful that he let me wallow for a few days after my meeting with Voldemort, because he didn’t even really have to do that. “I would expect nothing less, Professor. Am I to have your breakfast prepared before you wake up?”

“Preparing it before nine should suffice.”

“Should I try to cook it myself?”

“Do not set my house on fire.”

We walk in silence up the next flight of steps and before Snape opens his bedroom door, the door that is always locked, I clear my throat and say, “Thank you, Professor. For all you’ve taught me since I moved in here—even though you didn’t really want to. I really do appreciate it.” I rush off to my borrowed room before he has a chance to reply.

Only after I’ve closed the door and have sat down on my bed do I let the day’s events finally hit me with a full force. I’m a terrible person. I don’t deserve any of the kindness people show me.

I told Zoe the truth, the whole truth, rather than telling Fred. I love Fred, yet I cannot bring myself to admit what I have to do. _What does that make me?_ I don’t even really want to know what that makes me, honestly.

_But if I get out of this, I will never have to tell Fred anything._

What are the chances of that, though?

Not very good.

_But I can’t lie to Fred anymore._

_And there’s no way to stop this._

Or is there?

I drop to the floor in front of my trunk and take out a bottle of ink, a quill, and parchment.

_I have to stand up for myself. I have to tell the truth. So that’s what I’m going to do._

And if he kills me, so be it. At least I won’t have all of these lies anymore.

_This is why you cannot get attached to people, Charlotte._

My first letter, one long confession of all my lies, one long apology, is addressed to Fred. If he chooses to mourn me after learning the truth, that’s his choice. But he deserves to know the truth before wasting his time being upset over my death.

The second letter is one long thank you to McGonagall. She helped me a great deal when I was at Hogwarts, and therefore deserves some kind of acknowledgement, as well as an apology.

I scribble a quick note to Zoe, thanking her for accepting me even after she learnt what I am supposed to do for Voldemort.

Narcissa gets a quick thanks for being so kind.

Andromeda and Tonks are the last people I address. That day I spent with the Tonkses was great because of their kindness. I wish I had a chance to get to know them better.

I gather the folded pieces of parchment into my hand and leave my room. Tears threatening, I knock on Snape’s door. When I get no answer, I say softly, “Professor, I know you can’t be asleep yet. Please.”

It takes another minute before he opens the door in a long nightshirt. It catches me off guard, and after a short moment of my silence, he says, “Rodgers. What do you want?”

“I’m sure you understand the predicament I find myself in with Vol—the Dark Lord. And no matter what I say or do, I won’t be okay with what I have to do. I will never willingly do what he wants me to do.”

He doesn’t say a word.

I look down at my feet. “And it kills me that I can’t tell the truth to the people I want to, because I am so afraid of losing them. He will never choose anyone else other than me because of who I am, I know that. And I am left with no choice, it seems. But I cannot have his child.”

“Rodgers,” he says, not unkindly, “we’ve had this argument before. There is no other way.”

“But there is. It’s not ideal, and it’s certainly not my first choice, all things considered. But I can’t live with the knowledge of my duty, and I can’t live like this anymore, in fear and with all of these lies.” _So many lies._

I hold the letters out to him, and he accepts them. “What are these?”

“Apologies. Confessions. Each is addressed to someone, and I am asking you to ensure that they are delivered to the right people.”

His face becomes serious. “You’re planning to take your own life.” It’s not a question, because I’m sure, even if he doesn’t know exactly what I’m planning, he has the general idea. “You’re planning to give up entirely because you don’t like telling lies? After everything? Do you think anyone enjoys lying to the people who trust them? You think you’re alone that?”

“I’m not planning to take my own life. But I am going to tell the truth. One last truth. And if he decides that my transgressions are reason enough to kill me…” I look away from him for a moment. “Anyways, thank you for all you’ve done. And I’m sorry it ended up being such a waste.”

“Charlotte, you can’t—”

“I don’t really have a choice, Professor. I won’t have his child.”

“Charlotte—”

“Promise me you will deliver those if he kills me. Please.”

He watches me for a moment before coming to the conclusion that arguing with me is not the way to persuade me to change my mind. So he switches tactics. “What’re you planning on doing?” There is a distinct but hidden laughter in his voice, a stark contrast to his kind tone from moments ago.

“Just promise you’ll relay the messages.”

“What are going to do?” Still the hint of mockery in his voice.

“I’m going to Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord has ruined my life enough. He will know that I will not do his bidding. I don’t care if he rips me limb from limb, if he peels the flesh from my bones, if he Cruciates me to the point of insanity like Bellatrix did to the Longbottoms. He will know that I will _never_ support him, that I will _never_ have his child. My mother can take my position. I don’t care. I can’t keep lying like this, it’s killing me—and if he decides to kill me, at least then all the truth will come out.”

“You think you can throw everything away that easily?” Now Snape is openly laughing, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s like he’s trying to tell me that my reasoning is faulty, that this is no reason to throw my life away. But I don’t want to hear it. “Do you really believe you’re the only person who has ever been forced to do things for the Dark Lord that they would rather not do? Do you believe yourself _that_ unique in his ranks? Do not fool yourself.”

“Just make sure those get to the right people. Tell Mrs. Weasley, too, that I’m sorry.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever have contact with them?” I think he’s just trying to waste time.

I meet his black eyes. “Please.”

He must see it on my face that I’m about to Apparate, for he lunges at me.


	12. Chapter 12

I open my eyes inside the empty drawing room of Malfoy Manor, but the moment I turn away to search for Voldemort, the manor disappears as I am forcibly Disapparated. This time when I open my eyes, I’m back in the sitting room of Spinner’s End, Snape’s arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms to my side so I can’t move them to attack. “You could have Splinched me, you son of a bitch!”

I attempt to Apparate again but am unable to. So I struggle against him, flailing my body around wildly and kicking my feet frantically, really just trying to hurt him in any way possible. My elbow connects with his gut, and he lets out a low grunt before tightening his hold on me, successfully preventing me from being able to move any part of me other than my legs. I can feel his heartbeat against my back and his heavy breathing against my neck. I’m angering him. I like that thought, so I flail my legs harder. “Let me go!”

Then Snape leans backward, lifting my feet off the floor and ruining the tiny bit of leverage I had. “ _Let me go!_ ” Doing what I asked while not really do what I wanted, Snape violently and unceremoniously throws me onto the floor. I smack my mouth against the table, splitting my lip open and biting deep into my tongue. “You evil shit.” I thrust my hand into my pocket and pull out my wand, but as soon as I roll over and aim it at him, his spell throws it from my hand. Bracing myself on the rickety table, I push to my feet. Then I spew the contents of my mouth at Snape’s face, splattering him with blood and spit.

His lip curls into a snarl, and he wipes his face off with his sleeve, some of the blood simply smearing across his cheek. Without giving me a second to process how awful of an idea that was, Snape closes his hand around my throat and shoves me against the wall, his face inches from mine as he growls softly but viciously, “If you _ever—_ ”

I spit more blood into his face, not caring how reckless I am being, because I don’t want to hear what I am not allowed to do when there is already so much of that in this world as it is. His obsidian eyes widen with fury, and he shoves his wand against my cheek.

“Kill me then,” I say quietly. “You’ll only be doing me a favor. I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

His eyes narrow, and a deep growl emanates from the back of his throat. Then, through gritted teeth, he says, “ _Stupefy.”_

When I awaken, I know something’s wrong. I’m sitting on cold stone, my hands chained to something just above my head. I ignore the throbbing in my tongue and lip and look around the poorly lit room. Even with what little light is cast by the two torches, I recognize where I am. This is the basement room that Snape made with the Undetectable Charm. The cauldron in the middle of the room brews a potion, but Snape is nowhere to be found.

The chains rattle when I pull against them, but no matter how much effort I put into trying to free my hands, they’re too tight. With a frustrated huff, I pull myself to my feet and turn toward the large beam I am chained to.

Spitting on Snape? One of the worst decisions I’ve made in a while. Spitting on him a second time? One of the most dangerous things I’ve done in a while. Apparating to Malfoy Manor had done me no good, and now I don’t even know why I had attempted it. Who’s to say that Voldemort would’ve killed me and freed me from the lies? What if he had simply decided to detain me, as Snape has now done, until he is ready for me? Going back to Hogwarts is my best bet to get away from the Dark Lord, and Snape is the only hope I have of going back to Hogwarts. And I risked it all. For what? A moment of joy in spitting on him?

Besides that, I broke our deal no more than an hour after making it. Those Anti-Disapparation Jinxes will return in full force, and it’s my fault. I just wanted to stop the lies. If I told Voldemort the truth, I would no longer constantly have to deceive the people I care about. I might have died, but…at least my conscience would be clear, right?

But this current situation I’m in is not at all what I planned. I have to get out of here.

I turn toward the wall and brace one foot against to try to pull the chain from the wall, but it isn’t enough. I pull against the restraint as hard as I can and hoist my other foot onto the wall as well. Suspended above the floor, I pull with all of my might, and even though the chains do not relent, I refuse to give up.

“That won’t work,” Snape’s voice says.

Caught off guard, I lose my concentration and my hold on the wall and the chains, and I fall, the chain sliding down the beam, and slam onto my back on the floor. “Bloody hell,” I moan. I spin around and sit with my back against the wall, my hands now above my head once more, which is unsurprisingly uncomfortable. “What do you want?”

“Oh, you think I’m down here for you? No, I’m down here for more important things, such as the potion I’m brewing.” He motions to the cauldron as if to prove a point. “I want nothing from you. Nothing can help you at this point.” Snape turns his back on me and works with the potion, completely silent.

“What’s going to happen to me if nothing I can do can help me?”

“Only time will tell,” he says vaguely. Taking a few vials of the potion with him, he retreats back up the stairs. Then he adds tauntingly, “Have a good morning.”

I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at the door through which Snape has just left, mentally plotting thousands of ways to kill him if he should return, but it feels like a long while before he opens the door once more and descends to the basement. “Gave up on breaking out of the chains, I see. That’s probably for the best.”

“Just let me go.”

“Not yet.” He displays two vials in his palm that I had not seen a moment ago. “I wanted to test something.”

“What?” I stand to my feet, pushing my arms above my head, the chain moving upward. “I’m not some Muggle lab rat!”

“I never said you were. This might burn, Miss Rodgers, might even make you cry out for death. After all, that is what the Draught of Despair does, isn’t it?”

Snape comes toward me, unstopping the potions. “OKAY!” I shout, pushing back as far against the wall as I can. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have spat on you! It was foolish and disrespectful! I shouldn’t have tried to tell Voldemort the truth! I put both of our lives in danger.” I hang my head and drop to my knees in front of him, my arms pulling painfully above me again. “I’m sorry.”

The chains disappear, and my arms drop in front of me, the muscles screaming. He waits patiently until I look up and meet his smirking face. “Charlotte Rodgers, the Chosen One of the Dark Lord, on her knees in front of a Hogwarts Professor, begging for forgiveness.” I don’t say anything. I look at my wrists where they have been torn from my struggling and are now bleeding. They sting relentlessly, as if little fires consume them, but I don’t say anything about it; I just pull them close to my body and bite back the pain.

“It was a mistake…” I say quietly. “I made a mistake…” Something begins to ache in the back of my mind, and I feel myself slipping, retreating into myself. I’m not really with Snape down in his basement-dungeon anymore. I’m standing at the graveside of Mrs. Stoico, finally ready to accept that her death was because of me, finally able to accept that my recklessness has taken the lives of so many people and that this same recklessness nearly got me killed just a short while ago. “It’s my fault.” Tears warm and tickle my cheeks as they flow down my face. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have come back… I should’ve stayed away…” I could’ve gotten Snape killed like I got her killed. I could’ve gotten my friends killed like I got her killed.

“Rodgers,” Snape says softly, though I don’t think he realizes that I’m no longer talking to him but a grave, a grave miles away from here. He crouches down in front of me. “You’re safer here than with the Dark Lord.” He grabs my hands and pours something over them. This brings me back to the present. One of the vials he was holding is now empty. The sores and ripped skin on my hands close and fade. “Drink this.” I look at him with wide eyes and take the other vial, trusting that he does not plan on torturing me. My tongue and my split lip heal, the pain ebbing away. I hand the empty vial back to him with a shaking hand. “I did not mean for you to hit the table and split your lip. I…apologize.”

Snape stands and turns for the door, but I can’t look up at him and register anything he’s doing. I think he expects me to be following him, but I can’t bring myself to stand. Instead, I slide against the wall and pull my knees up to my chest.

It was wrong of me to attempt telling Voldemort the truth—that I will never serve him. He would have killed me or worse, and that would disgrace the memory of Mrs. Stoico, the memory of a woman who died so that I might live. He might have blamed those I cared about and killed them out of spite.

Snape’s footsteps cease suddenly. I don’t look up, but I can hear him coming toward me now rather than retreating back upstairs. “Rodgers, stand up.” I can’t bring myself to do it. “Stand up.” A force grabs me and forces me to my feet. It wasn’t exactly the professor; it was he who orchestrated it with his wand, but he didn’t manhandle me this time. Finally I meet his black eyes. “ _Legilimens.”_

 _I’m standing in Mrs. Stoico’s office at the orphanage. She’s crouched in front of me with tears of joy in her eyes. “Where did you go?” she asks me. “I was so worried about you!” The woman, who was the closest thing to a real mum I ever had, brushes her hand through my hair. “Don’t you_ ever _scare me like that again!”_

_“I’m sorry,” I whisper through tears of my own._

_She wraps me into a fierce hug._

_A gruff voice comes from the door, “Well, well.”_

I force Snape out of my memories. I had put in no effort until that moment.

Snape says nothing, simply watches me.

“I believe you just broke our deal, Professor,” I say heartlessly. “No memories of Mrs. Stoico, remember?”

“What are you hiding?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe. “I won’t try running off again. I won’t try telling Vol—the Dark Lord—the truth. That’s all you’re really worried about, isn’t it?” Snape doesn’t stop me when I trudge up the stairs and open the door to leave. I go to the old table in the sitting room where my wand lies atop my letters. I snatch it all up and go to my tiny, borrowed room.

In my rucksack there’s a wooden box containing the only things that I have ever cared about: a knife I used for reasons I prefer not to think about but cannot get rid of for reasons I don’t really understand, the letter from Fred that Lee delivered to me when I returned to Hogwarts after the Easter holidays, and the coin from the D.A. I put my letters on top, close it back, and shove it into my bag.

I need to talk to someone. No, I don’t _need_ to. I _want_ to. Mrs. Stoico’s death just another secret I’m keeping that is slowly eating away at me, and I want to get it off my chest.

I apprehensively go back down the stairs. “Professor.” Snape opens the basement door and comes out. “Professor, I—”

“Decided you wanted to talk about what happened down there?” Snape suggests.

“No. I need you to lift the Anti-Disapparation Jinx.”

“After what you attempted to do last time, you honestly expect me to lift the jinx again? Rodgers—”

“I’m not going to Malfoy Manor,” I say helplessly. “If I put myself in a position where the Dark Lord can kill me, I disrespect the memory of those who have died so that I can live. I’m not going to him. I want to speak with Professor McGonagall.”

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Yeah. You know, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor House. Ringing any bells? She’s been your colleague for—how many years now?”

“I know who she is,” he answers darkly, frowning at me.

“Then you should know that it’s safe to trust her. Please let me go.”

“Do you even know where to find her?”

I pause. I hadn’t thought this far. “I thought…I’d start at Hogwarts…”

His eyebrows go up, a smirk still on his face. “You thought you’d just search around for her?”

“I…hadn’t really…”

“Planned that far ahead? Yes, I see that.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Now why would I know that?”

Why didn’t I see it earlier? “She’s part of the Order too, right?” I ask, proud of myself for finally figuring this out yet ashamed that it took this long to piece together. With how loyal she is to Dumbledore, I don’t know why the thought hadn’t occurred to be earlier.

“I wouldn’t know,” Snape says. “I’ve told you: I am not part of the Order.”

“Stop lying to me. You know where she is, don’t you?”

Silence.

 _“Don’t you?_ ”

Snape shakes his head. “No.”

“Please just let me go,” I say quietly. “There’s something I need to talk about that I don’t want to talk to you about. No offense.”

“You don’t know how to find her, so why should I let you go wandering around?”

“I’ll go to Grim—” I stop. If he truly isn’t part of the Order, I can’t risk telling him where the Order goes. “Sirius’s place.”

“He’s dead,” Snape says reflexively.

I bite my tongue. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

“You expect me to remove the Anti-Disapparation Jinx after all the times you’ve broken our deals and tried to get yourself killed?”

“Please.”

“No.

“But—”

“I do not trust you to return. Nor do I trust you not to go to Malfoy Manor.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m over that!”

“I’m not removing the jinx.”

“You’re going to make me do something that I don’t want to do.”

“We both know your dueling capabilities, Rodgers. You won’t be able to—”

“I never said I was going to fight you, Professor.” A short moment passes. “I give you my word that I won’t do anything stupid if you will just lift the jinx for a short while.”

“Your word means nothing.”

A burst of anger jolts through me. “Professor—”

“My decision is final.”

I scowl at him, then close my eyes and take a deep breath, planning my next move. Without a second thought, I cast a shield around myself, dash to the front door, throw it open, and sprint away into the early morning air. “RODGERS! Do not expect to return here!” I glance behind me and see Snape standing in the doorway, his wand aimed at me. Snape is unable to stop me from Apparating once I get outside the range of the Anti-Disapparation Jinx.

I go to the door of Grimmauld Place and open it without knocking. There are more people in here than I thought there would be for Sirius being dead and all. A man turns and points his wand at me. “Who’re you?” he says bluntly.

“Ch-Charlotte Rodgers.”

Tonks comes out of the kitchen. “Put it down, Mundungus,” my cousin commands. “She’s a friend.” The man reluctantly drops his wand down. “What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“Looking for McGonagall,” I say. “Is she here?”

“Why would she be here?” Tonks asks innocently.

“C’mon. I can piece things together. She’s part of the Order, yeah? Do you know where she is? It’s important.”

“I believe she’s back at Hogwarts for now.”

“Thanks.” I turn and Apparate as close to Hogwarts as I can get. Then I walk onto the grounds and make my way to McGonagall’s office. If she’s here at the castle, that’s the best place to start looking.

Walking alone gives me the chance to ponder just how terrible of an idea it was to leave Spinner’s End like I did. Snape has been relatively kind to me recently, and I’ve done nothing but be a nuisance. I’ve been absolutely terrible toward him. Or at least incredibly annoying. All I know is that I have probably sacrificed staying at Spinner’s End because of my actions. It is highly unlikely that Snape will allow me back there after he warned me against leaving…again. The Dark Lord will not be pleased with me.

_What if he throws me in the cellar at Malfoy Manor?_

I guess it serves me right, doesn’t it? For being such a selfish little bitch.

I stop when I reach McGonagall’s office. If I leave now, will Snape allow me to stay at Spinner’s End? If I tell him I decided against speaking with McGonagall in order to go to him and apologize, will he be lenient? Or will he simply not care?

Severus Snape won’t care if I apologize. And the more time I spend with Snape at Spinner’s End practicing Occlumency and reliving all of the horrible moments of my past, the more Mrs. Stoico’s death weighs on my chest. I don’t want Snape to know what I’ve done, and if I don’t speak of this with someone, I’m afraid I’ll break and he’ll see and he’ll hate me and I can’t have that because he’s the only Death Eater that seems to keep me from being hurt or killed. And if I can never be free of my duty, at least I can be free of this fear that Snape will see what I did to that Death Eater.

And maybe—just maybe—McGonagall will be able to convince me that Mrs. Stoico’s death isn’t really my fault and that what I did in retaliation wasn’t really that bad. And maybe I’ll be able to put it behind me once and for all.

With that in mind, I knock on McGonagall’s door. There is no answer, and I wait a moment before knocking again, only to get the same silent response. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of telling me to get back to Spinner’s End and try to make amends with Snape. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of telling me not to speak of this ever again.

But I’ve never really respected the universe’s vague clues, so I knock once more on the door for good measure. To my immense joy, the door opens this time. McGonagall looks at me with confusion. “Rodgers?”

“Professor.”

“Come in. Come in,” she says, waving me inside her office. “What are you doing here?”

“I…I had to…I had a meeting with Voldemort…” My whole plan of finally confessing everything that happened to Mrs. Stoico when I returned to the orphanage vanishes. Perhaps it’s not time to talk about that yet. Or maybe I just have to build the courage.

She pauses for a second before going to sit behind her desk as she usually does. Then she says, “How long ago?”

“About a week,” I answer quietly. “I would’ve come sooner, but I kind of…locked myself away…”

“What did he say?”

“Well”—I know my voice is going to leave me when I think about what was said and what is to happen—“he has…chosen a day.”

“A d—” I guess she realizes what I mean. “When?”

I go on to tell her about the stipulations of the time (without mentioning that it is Draco who has to do something for Voldemort; I don’t want him being incriminated when I don’t even know what he’s to do even though I know it must be bad if Voldemort has commanded it). She doesn’t really know what to say, so she sits in silence for a few minutes, just looking back at me with the same look of helplessness I feel, neither of us able to really think of anything to follow what I’ve just told her. All she can say is, “Rodgers,” in a very distressed way, which doesn’t encourage me. But it does feel good to know she cares. A few minutes later she adds, “Who else knows?”

“The dates?” She nods. “Bellatrix—I told her right after; in a moment of weakness I wanted her to be my mother. Narcissa—after Bellatrix and I had an argument and lost all sense of sentimentality, I went to her for help.” Try as I might to deny it, Narcissa had been more mothering toward me than I had thought possible. “And S—” _Oh no_. I scramble for anyone I can think of whose name would start with an “S” sound. The closest I can think of is, “Zoe Accrington.”

“The Slytherin?”

I nod. “We…we’re friends. And I trust her.”

“Enough to tell her the truth about yourself?”

“Yes.”

Another short moment of silence before, “Professor Dumbledore and Potter will find a way to stop him.”

“Voldemort?”

“You will be fine, Rodgers. The Order will stop him.”

That’s an encouraging thought. Or it was the first few times I’ve heard it. It’s lost its meaning now, really.

I stay there for nearly an hour. I tell her about my moment with Bellatrix and how awfully that had ended, and what Narcissa had told me over the Easter holidays about how my mother had truly cared for me. I don’t want to leave her office, honestly, and I find myself saying more than I really should. I don’t know why this is, really, I just can’t stop myself.

When it finally comes time to leave, she makes sure I know that her door is always open if I ever need her again.

I step off the Hogwarts grounds and Apparate back to Spinner’s End, never having spoken to McGonagall about the real reason I had gone there in the first place: Mrs. Stoico’s death, how it was my fault, and how it led to my first and most brutal murder.


	13. Chapter 13

Only after I’ve Apparated to Spinner’s End do I realize how surprising that actually is. I had just assumed that Snape would keep the Anti-Disapparation Jinx on his home while I was gone so I could not return. But he didn’t. And now I find myself alone in the sitting room of Snape’s house. Perhaps I should try to find him and apologize. I’ve been a horrid house guest, and he doesn’t deserve that.

I’m making my way to the stairs to find him and apologize when my whole body goes stiff as a board and I collapse to the floor. _What the—?_ “Did I not tell you that you should not return?” Snape walks into my line of sight. “You asked the Dark Lord to come here, yet all you do is try to escape. I have too much to worry about without adding your desire to run away.” He crouches down beside me, his eyes scraping over me until he locates the pocket where I keep my wand. Then he reaches his hand into that pocket and steals it. “So from this point until the end of the holiday, you are not my problem anymore.” He stands back up and takes a step away from me before releasing the Body-Binding Curse and magically pulling me to my feet. “You will spend the rest of the holiday at Malfoy Manor—”

“No, I—”

“—under the watchful eye of your mother, who seems more than pleased to lock you away. Your things are already there.”

“Professor Snape, please, I’m sorry! Please don’t make me stay there with her! Please!”

“Your actions have consequences, Rodgers. Perhaps now you’ll learn that.”

“Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything.”

He simply glowers at me, grabs me by the arm, and Apparates with me. I already know where I am before I gather my bearings. We’re at Malfoy Manor. I look over and find Bellatrix, a cruel smile on her face, standing in the drawing room when the professor and I arrive. Snape releases me and walks to the mother and gives her my wand. “Snape.”

“Bellatrix.” He glances at me. “I truly wish you the best of luck with that one.” Then he Disapparates, leaving me alone with Bellatrix Lestrange.

We watch each other in silence until, a few seconds later, I say, “So am I to assume I’ll be living in your room with you or…?”

“The cellar.” She takes my arm and leads me to that awful magic-muffling dungeon. I don’t attempt to fight. I simply don’t have it in me to be beaten by my mother right now. “It should suffice.”

“And I’m to stay here for the rest of the holiday?”

“You lived in the Muggle dunghill. This should be an upgrade for you.” Bellatrix takes me down to the cellar door and pushes it open. I find my trunk and rucksack on the floor already. I wonder how long they’ve been waiting for me to arrive so they could do this.

“Just when I thought I had officially said goodbye to living in caves and the like.”

Bellatrix says nothing, just releases me, and walks away, closing and locking the door behind her. Only two torches light the large room, and I drag my things under one of them so I can have as much light as possible. Anything could be hiding in those dark corners, and I find myself pulling my knees to my chest. I don’t have a wand or the ability to use magic, but I’m not completely weaponless, so long as Snape removed nothing from my trunk.

I reach inside of it and bring out that wooden box with my letters and the D.A. coin. None of those things will offer me any protection down here, but the knife will. I pluck it from the box and hold it in my hand. It’s the first time I’ve held it since that fateful day when I took that Death Eater’s life. I feel ill, honestly, with this thing in my hands. I don’t even know why I kept it when I should have buried it somewhere, but…I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it.

I fill my rucksack with clothes and lie down on it like a pillow. I clutch the knife in my hands and close my eyes.

Somehow I manage to drift off, but the creaking cellar door wakes me far too soon. I quickly stuff the knife inside my rucksack again. Bellatrix closes the door and approaches me. “Dinner.”

“That’s not my name.”

Apparently I’m not worth an answer, for she sets the plate on the floor about three arms’ lengths away from me and walks back out of the cellar.

It’s just a cheese sandwich, as I soon find out.

When Bellatrix returns twenty minutes later, I’m waiting just inside the door to return the plate. “Mother Dearest,” I say before she enters the cellar, “could I get some water?” She waves her wand, a glass of water flying to her hand, then walks toward me. “So is this how it’ll be for the rest of the holiday? I live in this dark dungeon, you deliver my meals with perhaps four words spoken, I sleep on the stone floor with constant flashbacks of my life on the run?”

“You’re safe here.”

“I was safe at Spinner’s End.”

“You don’t need to live in that place anymore.”

“It’s better than living in a dungeon.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before trying to run away.”

“I wasn’t running away for good. I was just trying to get away from Snape for a short while. Can you really blame me for that?” Bellatrix seems slightly amused, and I’m almost proud of that. “But really, is all of this necessary? Without my wand, I won’t be able to run off. Do I have to stay down here?”

“This is your punishment, and you will serve it.”

I sigh. “I guess I didn’t really expect any different. Well, thanks for the water, Mum.” Both of us freeze at my slip of the tongue. “I…I’m sorry, I…”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, without a word, she turns around and retreats from the cellar.

Bellatrix does not return to deliver my meals in person after that. The only resident of the manor I see for the next six days is Cosmo the house-elf. And I almost believe he’s been commanded not to speak with me, because I cannot get him to utter a single word no matter what I say or do. He’ll come in, place my food on the floor next to me, and disappear without a word. This is my life now. And really, I deserve it considering how horrible I was to Snape.

A hand on my shoulder wakes me, and I snatch the knife from under my rucksack, pull the legs out from whoever grabbed me, ignoring their startled grunt as they hit the stone floor, and hop on top of them, pressing the blade to their throat. Through my heavy breathing and the panic rising in me, I vaguely register a gentle voice whispering, “Aurelia—Aurelia, calm down.”

I finally come to my senses. I’m not currently being hunted by Death Eaters. Rather, I’m in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. And I have my mother pinned to the floor with a knife to her neck. What looks like blood is trickling around the blade, and I quickly jerk it away and roll off of her. I push myself to my feet and look down at where she sits, a cloth I register to be one of my shirts pressed against her neck where I cut her.

“I…I didn’t mean—”

“Do you always sleep with a weapon under your head?” she asks, removing my shirt from her neck and placing it with the rest of my things.

“Since I was ten. I never knew who might attack me.”

Bellatrix looks as if she wants to say something but decides against it. I offer her my hand and help her back to her feet. “I really do apologize for that,” I say. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I can fix it when we get out of the cellar.”

“I’m leaving the cellar?”

“For now.” She places her hand on my back and directs me up the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

“The Dark Lord required my assistance.”

 _Could she be any vaguer?_ “Everything went well, I’m assuming. Though I’m sure it always goes well when you’re involved, doesn’t it?”

“You’re mistaken if you think I’ll relinquish your wand for a few words of flattery.”

“Perhaps I was just trying to compliment my mother.” I dart my eyes toward her, but she is resolutely not looking over at me. “However, I was hoping—”

“No, you may not leave.”

“That wasn’t really what I was planning on asking. I wanted to go see Draco.”

Finally she looks at me. “Of course. I believe he’s still in his room. Why don’t you run up there while I see how far along the house-elves with your breakfast?”

I don’t waste any time rushing off to Draco’s room. He is closing the door behind him as he leaves. “Draco!”

He turns and smiles when he sees me. “Charlotte?”

“I need to ask you a huge favor.” I motion toward his room, and we both enter. “I need to borrow your wand.”

This takes him completely off guard. “Why?”

“Bellatrix has mine, and I can’t get it back. But there’s someone I need to see. I need to tell them I won’t be able to spend any more time with them this holiday.”

“Who and why can’t you?”

I scramble for a lie that does not include the Weasleys, because I know Draco will never approve of that. “Zoe Accrington.” That’s not much better though because he hates her too. “And because I am currently being punished and am being forced to stay in the cellar down there without magic. Bellatrix let me out this morning, but I doubt it’ll last. And I need Zoe to not worry about me. Please, Draco.”

“Charlotte, I don’t think—”

“I just need a wand to Apparate. I’ll be gone five minutes at most.”

After a short minute, he sighs, “Fine. But I’m trusting you greatly by doing this. And this means everything is behind us, all love, all fights, all animosity—it’s gone. Deal?”

“As long as you abide by the same rules, deal.”

He hands me his wand, and I Disapparate. I open the door to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and search frantically for Fred. He’s by the register today, and I rush toward him. “Fred!”

The redheaded boy looks up at the sound of my voice and comes around the counter to greet me with a swift kiss. “Where’ve you been? We’ve been so worried!”

“I’m safe and fine and unharmed, but I’ve been locked away. I have three minutes before I have to Apparate back to the manor. I can’t come by the shop any more during the holiday. They’re angry, and I can’t risk anything.”

“Wait—”

“I’m really sorry, but that’s all I can say. I’m safe though, and that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course. And you’d tell me if you were in danger?”

“Yes, I swear, but I really must go. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I peck his cheek before Disapparating. “Did I make it back in time?” I ask Draco.

He nods, taking his wand back. “You had thirty seconds to spare. Now you should get down to the kitchen before your mother comes looking for you.”

I walk down to the kitchen where Bellatrix waits with someone I was not expecting to see until I returned to Hogwarts: Severus Snape. He sits at the table with my mother, both of them looking completely indifferent at their current circumstances. “Professor?” I take a seat across from him and next to Bellatrix.

“Rodgers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your punishment has been served,” Bellatrix says airily. “You are to return to the Muggle dunghill with Snape.”

I look between the pair of them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You are to return with him to continue your training in nonverbal spells.”

“Will I get my wand back?”

“No,” Snape answers flatly. “You cannot be trusted with it. The only time you will need your wand is during your lessons. Beyond that, it will be out of your reach.”

“But—”

“Do not argue,” Snape says. “It’s time for us to leave.”

“But—”

“Hush,” Bellatrix demands.

“But I don’t understand.”

“What is there not to understand?” Snape asks coolly. “You’re leaving Malfoy Manor and returning to Spinner’s End. I believe that’s straightforward. Of course, you did spend five years uneducated, living in caves, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t understand even the simplest—”

“Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks. “You know such big words for a child who grew up alone.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” I hiss at him.

“Or you’ll what? You have no wand, no weapon. What could you possibly do to me?”

I turn to my mother. “Couldn’t I just stay here with you rather than returning to that hellhole with _him_?”

“No, Miss Rodgers”—she must assume Snape does not know of my true parentage—“not unless you would prefer to be locked in the cellar for the rest of the holiday.”

“I’ll take that over being stuck with him.”

Bellatrix shakes her head. “From what I’ve gathered, you don’t want to live like that anymore.”

“Would you live with that man if given the chance to live anywhere else?”

Snape stands to his feet. “I believe I’ve heard quite enough. Enjoy your time living in the dungeon.”

“Wait,” Bellatrix says. “Char—Charlotte, you must go with him. You cannot live in the cellar any longer. That was a punishment for your actions, a punishment which has now been served.”

I level my gaze at her. “I’m sure there are other places in this manor where I can live.”

“No. You must leave with Snape.”

With an exaggerated groan, I stand up and walk around to where the professor stands. “I’m guessing it’s time for me to leave Malfoy Manor, Professor.” With a cold smile, I take Snape’s hand and hold it uncomfortably tightly. His lip curls viciously. “Shall we Disapparate?” We do just that, and the moment we reach Spinner’s End, I release Snape’s hand. “How did you manage to get me out of that? And where’s my wand?”

“You were never meant to stay there for the rest of the holiday. The Dark Lord would not have approved when he wanted you to learn how to duel. However, it was he who suggested putting you there as a punishment for not being compliant. And—”

“So it’s safe to assume that when it comes time for me to fulfill my duty to Voldemort—the Dark Lord, sorry, don’t yell at me like I can see you’re planning to do—when that time comes, he’ll punish me for not being compliant?” I sit down unsteadily on the sofa. “But his punishments will be more severe, won’t they? He’ll probably Cruciate me or—or _worse_.” I meet his eyes. “Professor, I can’t do this. Please, just let me have my wand—you can say I stole it from you or something. Please just let me escape this. Please.”

Snape suddenly looks overly uncomfortable. “I can’t do that.”

“What will he do to me if I resist him? If he learns that I’ve been taught Occlumency?”

“You must become efficient enough that he will not know you have been taught.”

I lean back on the sofa and look at him skeptically. “Is that even possible?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll just have to practice more often and put more effort into it?” I ask sarcastically.

“Yes. But we won’t be working on Occlumency today.”

“Nonverbal spells then?”

He shakes his head. “Not today.” I watch him quizzically, so he explains, “Today you will learn how to be the new Wormtail of Spinner’s End. We had a deal, as I’m sure you remember.”

I grimace. “Of course I remember. What all does my new position require me to do?”

“You will need to cook our meals, clean the house, do whatever needs to be done.”

“All without magic, I’m assuming?”

“The only time you will hold your wand in your hand is during our lessons.”

I nod, knowing that there is no point in arguing with him. “And the no wand thing is because I kept running away, and not because of the deal, right?”

“Correct.”

“And will you be teaching me how to cook?”

“There is a book in the kitchen with recipes. Follow the instructions, and all should be fine.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “And you trust me not to burn the house down, do you?”

“No, but I will be in the house while you are cooking, and should you find yourself catching the place on fire, all you have to do is ask for help.”

“And you’ll help me cook?”

“No, I’ll put out the fire.”

“And everything I need should be in the kitchen?”

“It should.”

“And if it’s not?”

“It should be there.”

“But if it’s not?” He gives me a frustrated look, and I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, it should be there. Is there anything in particular that I have to cook?”

“Not today.”

When lunchtime rolls around, I know I should be frustrated with this arrangement, despite the fact that I made the deal in the first place (even though when I made the deal I had assumed I’d have magic, but I guess I ruined that for myself), but I can’t bring myself to be irritated about it. Without my new position as replacement Wormtail of Spinner’s End, I would be locked in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. And no matter what I said to Bellatrix, I would rather be here than there. Mostly because I hate the thought of being trapped under the same roof as Voldemort.

Over the next few weeks, I fall into a routine. I start breakfast as soon as I can each morning (it typically ends up burnt). Then I clean the kitchen. The nonverbal duels begin once I finish the kitchen and continue until I have to make lunch (it is almost always something easy, like sandwiches), which is immediately followed by Occlumency lessons. Those lessons last until I have to make dinner (it, too, typically ends up burnt, but Snape has yet to complain about a single meal I’ve made, thank the heavens; and I’m not even sure why he allows me to cook after the Occlumency lessons considering what he said before, but I’m afraid to ask and upset him). After that, I clean the kitchen once more and meet Snape back in the basement where I assist him with his potion-making. Which basically means I gather the ingredients for him because he doesn’t trust me to be out of his sight. Then, while Snape finishes up with his potions for the day, he has me scrub the stone floor around the cauldron.

The last three hours of the day are spent in the sitting room, Snape reading whatever it he chooses for the day, and me just wasting time, trying to stay awake.

When Snape leaves Spinner’s End for whatever reason (I can’t be sure if it has something to do with Voldemort or the Order, and I have yet to ask; I have not spoken an ill word toward him, nor have I questioned him because I refuse to be locked up at Malfoy Manor again), he has me clean the house, every room except his, which is still kept closed and locked. I believe my wand might locked away in there, but I can’t be sure because I’ve not seen the inside of his room since the day I tried telling Voldemort that I refuse to serve him.

Our steady routine is ruined one night as I am cooking dinner. Apparently I’ve read the instructions incorrectly or done something I should not have done, for the pan of chicken on the stove bursts into flames. In a knee-jerk reaction, I grab the glass of water I have been sipping on and toss onto the flames, but that just makes the fire spread. “Prof-Professor!” 

I dart out of the kitchen and ram into Snape, who is rushing into the kitchen, and we both fall to the floor. “You’re crushing me!” I struggle to say.

Snape quickly gets up to his feet and waves his wand at the growing fire. The flames disappear. “You set my kitchen on fire.”

“Well, you broke my ribs, so I guess we’re even.” I walk over to the pan of chicken and lift it up to inspect the completely charred chicken. Then I drop the pan back onto the stove.

“What were you attempting—”

“I was trying to sauté it, but never again. I’m done! I’ll just bake chicken from now on, and you can have that for every meal. And you can put it on sandwiches if you get tired of just having chicken. I give up on this whole cooking thing.”

Snape begins laughing. He begins _actually_ laughing at me and the disgruntled look that’s no doubt on my face. “As long as the chicken isn’t burnt—”

“You can shut up! I have been doing my best—”

“And you’ve gotten better.”

“—but I surrender now! I am no cook!”

“It was one meal. You set the kitchen on fire one time in—”

“I set the kitchen on fire, Professor.”

“And it can easily be fixed. It’s not the first time someone has set this kitchen on fire.”

“Are you saying you’ve almost burnt down the house before? Because I don’t believe that.”

“I’m saying—”

“Perhaps I should come back,” a voice says. Snape and I both look over to where Narcissa now stands. “Has she been your house-elf, Snape?”

“She made the deal.”

Narcissa doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I brought Charlotte what she’ll need this year at Hogwarts. It’s by the steps.”

“How much do I owe you?” Like I could afford it anyway—this’ll probably be just another thing to hold over me. “When did you even go to Diagon Alley?”

“I went with Draco yesterday. And you owe us nothing.”

“Generous of you,” I comment.

“The Lestranges have a fortune locked away in Gringotts,” she says.

A sudden surge of sentimentality courses through me. My mother paid for everything I will need at Hogwarts this year.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your…argument.” Narcissa Disapparates.

Snape looks back at me, then glances at the ruined dinner. “You can have the rest of today off.” He waves his wand and summons food as he used to.


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks later, I prepare to leave for Hogwarts once more, throwing everything I own into my rucksack and trunk. Among the things that Narcissa dropped off for me, besides the books, were four pairs of robes that, I learned that night after trying them on, fit me perfectly. I’m only slightly uncomfortable about that, because how would she have known my measurements? However, I refuse to dwell too much on it. They fit me, they’re new, they’re paid for. And that’s all that matters, I suppose.

Snape and I, as well as the other professors who do not live at the castle during the holidays, are going back to Hogwarts today. He does not trust me staying at Spinner’s End for two weeks without his “supervision” (with good reason, of course). So I’ll be at Hogwarts, again, before any of the other students. I guess it’s not all bad: The food will certainly be better than what I have been forced to cook, without magic, since my return to Spinner’s End.

Snape glances at me when I arrive in the sitting room, then waves his wand. “Your things are at Hogwarts now.”

“Remind me again why I can’t stay here rather than spending two weeks alone at the castle.” I don’t even care that much, but it’s fun to irritate him after all of the nonsense he’s made me do since I came back from the manor.

He sighs. At least five times now we’ve argued about this very point. “You’ll find a way to destroy my house,” he says.

“I set the place on fire one time, and suddenly I’m someone who wants to destroy it.”

“If you hate the idea of being at Hogwarts this much, you can go to Malfoy Manor for the next two weeks.”

“And stay locked in the cellar again? No thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.” He offers me his arm, and when I look at it without taking it, he frowns at me. “You can’t stay here.”

I grimace back at him. “You do realize that I am fully capable of Apparition myself, right?”

“Even without your wand? You must be very talented.”

“You could always return my wand.”

He levels his gaze at me. “I’m offering to Apparate you there myself.”

“Why do that when you could just as easily give me my wand?”

“Common courtesy implores that I offer,” he answers flatly.

I roll my eyes. “Since when does Severus Snape care about ‘common courtesy’?”

“I agree that is most unlike me. I have been commanded not to return your wand to you until you are once again inside the castle walls.”

“And who ordered that? My mother? Do you really obey Bellatrix Lestrange, Professor?”

“Had Bellatrix Lestrange ordered me to keep your wand from you, I would have returned it weeks ago. The Dark Lord commanded it.”

“Why would he do that?”

Snape does not answer me.

“Will you ever tell me?”

Again he does not answer.

“If I take your arm and let you Apparate with me, will you tell me? Don’t I have a right to know, sir?”

Snape remains infuriatingly silent.

“Fine, whatever.” I take his arm, and we Disapparate.

I open my eyes in Hogsmeade. I reluctantly pull my arm away from Snape’s. “There are things I must do here,” he tells me. “Go to Hogwarts. Make no unnecessary stops along the way, and I’ll give you your wand when I reach the castle.”

“Okay,” I say. “You can find me in the Slytherin Dungeon, I suppose.” Leaving him behind—or would it be him leaving me behind since he’s going to enjoy himself while I go mope around and do nothing?—I start in the direction of the castle. I’d like to go see Zoe since I’m right here in Hogsmeade, but I don’t want to disobey Snape when he still has my wand hidden somewhere.

I’m walking the path to the castle when I hear a _pop!_ It’s not overly loud, but it’s definitely not the sound of someone who is as skilled in the art of Apparition as Narcissa or even Snape whose Apparitions are incredibly quiet, or even Voldemort’s whose Apparition is silent. I look around and see a figure wearing a black cloak, their face hidden. It has to be a coincidence. I mean, Hogsmeade is right there. But my gut says otherwise.

I glance back again.

Someone is definitely following me. Some people have no subtlety. I intend on ignoring them completely until a hand rests on my shoulder and spins me around so I have to face them.

“Listen to me,” an urgent voice says, “you’re not safe in the castle!”

“I believe I’ll be fine,” I say dully, trying to look into my assailant’s face but only seeing shadows because of that cloak. “Who are you?”

There is a huff of indignation. “Don’t you know the voice of your own mother, Aurelia?”

“Bellatrix, I am _not_ Aurelia. I might have been her for about six months at one point, but I am not, nor will I ever be again, Aurelia Lestrange. I’m sorry, but I’m not who you want me to be.” I turn around and begin walking away.

Her hands clasp my shoulders, I hear someone calling my name, then I am being sucked into a tube, the familiar feeling of Apparition. “Where’ve you taken me?”

We’re in a cemetery, rain falling on us, the chill making my skin tingle. I don’t like this. “I’m leaving now.” I go to step away from her, but her grip on me tightens. _You can’t leave anyway—Snape still has your wand._

“Listen to me!”

“ _What?_ ” I growl, meeting her gaze.

“I can’t let you die twice!”

Her eyes are desperate, almost desperate enough to make me want to stay, but I still don’t like being alone with her. I don’t fully trust her. “You can only die once.”

With her hand on my shoulder, she turns me toward a weather-worn headstone. In big, bold letters, it says:

**AURELIA CELAENO LESTRANGE**

**21 NOVEMBER 1979 – 15 NOVEMBER 1980**

Below that, inscribed in the stone is a quote: _Death is a cessation from the impression of the senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors of the mind, and the servitude of the body._

“You’ve already—you’ve already died once!” she says, her voice cracking. “I cannot go through your death _twice_!” Bellatrix turns me around so I can see her fully. I’m too stunned at finally learning my middle name to say anything. “Aurelia, look at me!” I focus on her eyes. Though I had been looking at her, it was obvious that I had not been paying any attention. “I _cannot_ lose you again!”

“The Dark Lord has assured my safety. You shouldn’t be too worried.”

“But I am! I’ve done things—terrible, terrible things! If someone were to find out who you are…” She shakes her head violently, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen. “Aurelia, you must promise me that you will stay vigilant! No one must know who you are!”

“Is that why you think I’m not safe at Hogwarts? Because of the mistakes you’ve made? Bellatrix”—she winces at my use of her real name again rather than calling her “Mum” as I had done not too long ago—“I held my own against you in our duel. Do you really believe that any of the students will be able to harm me?”

“Not the students,” she says tightly, “but the professors! Dumbledore—”

“Is the headmaster and as such will not harm me. I’m a student still,” I interrupt, though I know I’m not even a real student.

“McGonagall—”

“Would never hurt me!”

“But she would! She was so fond of her Gryffindors! I drove two of them to insanity with the Cruciatus Curse. If she knows who you are, do you really think she would not use you to get her revenge against me?”

“But she—” I stop, almost letting slip that McGonagall _does_ know and has not changed toward me at all—well, she actually seems to care _more_ since she found out who I am. “She wouldn’t.”

Bellatrix closes her eyes. “Something is going to happen this year,” she says slowly. “Someone is going to die.”

“Who?”

Her dark eyes meet mine. “I’ve come here without permission to warn you, Aurelia, but I cannot divulge the plans the Dark Lord’s made.” A tear slips down her cheek. This simple act wrenches my heart. My mother is standing here in front of me, crying to me, trying to keep me safe. It’s too much for me, and I find myself throwing my arms around her. Together we stand in front of my grave in each other’s arms for nearly half an hour. Finally she breaks the silence, “I do not trust Severus Snape, but he’s the only supporter the Dark Lord has in the castle.” She pulls away from me and puts her hands on my cheeks. “You _must_ stay as close to him as possible. He will keep you safe, for your safety is the order of the Dark Lord, but do not put your faith in him. He cares only about his own welfare. Do not trust him. Only use him, as he uses so many.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say quietly. My eyes drift to my tombstone.

“Suh-lee-noh.” I look back at her. “In case you were wondering how to pronounce your second name.” She smiles uneasily. “I couldn’t completely give up the Black family tradition.”

“It’s a star?”

Bellatrix nods.

“And…and the quote?”

A sad smile spreads across her face. “Marcus Aurelius, for whom you are named.”

She doesn’t elaborate on why she had chosen Marcus Aurelius, but I didn’t really expect her to. If Andromeda was truthful about Rodolphus and Bellatrix connecting over him, there’s no way Bellatrix would tell me about it now. But still, I ask her, “Why was he important enough for me to take his name?”

Bellatrix places her hand on my cheek. “You need to go now.” Then she pulls me close to her again and kisses my cheek. “I will see you again.”

I smile. “Mum,” I say in a way of goodbye. She is about to Disapparate when I realize that I still do not have my wand. “Wait!” Bellatrix stops moving completely. “I…I can’t currently Disapparate. Would you mind…?”

Her face is kind, a sort of broken half-smile pulling at her lips, when she takes my hand and Disapparates with me. She leaves me where she abducted me, Disapparating again before I can say another word.

I dash up to the castle as fast as I possibly can. As far as I can tell, no one saw me leave with Bellatrix. I should be fine. So why am I this worried? There’s this feeling that I can’t shake that someone saw me. I replay the moment in my mind. No one was around. No one could have seen. Wait…there was that person who was called my name…but perhaps I had only imagined that… I mean, what are the odds that someone else was around for that? I was far enough away from Hogsmeade to not been seen by the people there…but…surely I’m imagining hearing someone call my name.

I dart through the doors of the entrance hall. Maybe if I can get to the library I can claim to have been up there this whole time and simply apologize to Snape that I didn’t actually go back to the dungeon like I thought I would. It would be an easy enough lie. Madam Pince wasn’t in the library this time last year, so she shouldn’t be there this time to negate my claim. She only came around when the other students arrived last year, and that’s the hope I am holding onto as I make way up to the library.

I’m just reaching the stairs when I hear, “Miss Rodgers,” and stop abruptly.

Turning, I see Snape and McGonagall both striding toward me, both looking equally upset with me, which only intensifies my confusion. I don’t understand why both of them would be angry with me. There’s really nothing I could have done to either of them. I literally just entered the castle. “Professors,” I say breathlessly, rushing back toward them so I look at least somewhat obedient.

“Where did you go?” McGonagall questions me.

I clear my throat. “I…wh-what? I was…in the library. I was…I was going back…forgot something…” _I am usually such a better liar than this, what is wrong with me?_

Snape frowns at me. “The library? I was just up there, and yet I did not see you.”

“Who was with you on your way from Hogsmeade?”

Great. They’re ganging up on me. This is completely unfair, and it won’t end well for me, I’m afraid. The two of them are the only professors I would have been with, and since they both know that I was not with the other, I cannot lie about which one I was with. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” I say with a hint of laughter in my voice, trying to sound sincere.

Her lips thin out, which proves I have failed in convincing them that I was anywhere other than here at the castle, and I clear my throat quietly, fearing that she is growing agitated with me. “Why are you lying to us?”

“I…’m not…” I say slowly. “I…wasn’t with anyone…I was here…at Hogwarts.”

Snape raises an eyebrow. “Where exactly? We’ve been searching for you almost an hour now.”

Wow, it took much longer to get to the castle than I thought it had. “Aww, Professors,” I say with a falsely touched voice, covering my heart with my hand. “That means so much to me.”

“Where were you?” Snape snarls.

I over-exaggerate the rolling of my head when I turn to look at him. “What is with your accusatory tone, Professor? It’s not like I have secret meetings or I’m living a double life. I mean, can you think of _anyone_ who could pull something like that off?” He narrows his eyes at me but does not comment on what I’ve just said. “That’s what I thought. Do you really think it’s possible for a sixteen-year-old to do such a thing right under your noses?” I glance at McGonagall. Her face seems disappointed, and I instantly regret that I must lie like this. “What makes you think I went somewhere?”

“You were seen,” McGonagall says tightly.

“By whom?”

“Myself,” she answers. “I was walking back to Hogwarts when I saw a hooded figure Apparate behind you and begin speaking with you. I could see that you were trying to get away, but you were grabbed and taken before I could reach you.”

“It was you who called for me?”

“So you did go somewhere,” Snape interjects.

I meet his eye.

“I went back to Hogsmeade to find Professor Snape. We had just spoken, and he’d told me you would be on your way to the castle. We both came back to search the grounds, thinking you might have returned. When you hadn’t, we knew something was wrong.”

I hang my head and rest my forehead in the palm of my hand. “I guess the game is up,” I say quietly, willing the tears to come. Slowly but surely I feel them stinging my eyes. Only then do I look up at the two of them. “Someone did come to get me.”

McGonagall’s expression has softened, but Snape’s has only grown fiercer. I guess my sorrow doesn’t work on him like it does McGonagall, probably because she pities me (because of my duty to Voldemort) whereas he does not. But not even she looks as sympathetic as she usually does. This isn’t good. This is my last chance. “It…was my-my mother. Bellatrix,” I whisper. “It was Bellatrix.”

Both of their faces become more curious, Snape’s more curious than McGonagall’s. “What happened?” he asks me.

“She’s becoming…attached to me. She…she had to show me…my grave…or the grave that she thought I was buried in. She…wanted me to know…that she can’t lose me twice…” Neither of them speaks, so I add, “It’s okay though. She’ll get over it.”

“You believe she will lose you twice?” Snape asks.

“With Voldemort looming over me? Yeah.” I’ve stopped the tears at this point. They were doing me no good.

McGonagall frowns. “But you can’t expect—you can’t think that way, Rodgers. You have to believe all of this will be stopped.”

“I would love to endorse those types of thoughts, Professor, but I learned long ago not to let my mind run wild with ideas that will only make my duty worse if said ideas do not pan out the way I hoped.” I swallow. I don’t really understand why I am telling the two of them this. “That being said, I’ve learned the hard way that the pain is lessened if I keep people _out of my life_ and _out of my business_ , you know, at arm’s length, away from me in general. It’s lessened for both me and them. Bellatrix will not hurt too badly for this very reason, nor will anyone else.” If Bellatrix is worried for my safety, there’s not much I can do. Something bad is coming, and I can’t stop it. The least I can do is make sure that I don’t hurt a whole swath of people when I die, unlike last time when my parents and even Andromeda and probably Narcissa all mourned me. I don’t want to leave sorrow behind when Voldemort comes for me. Which is why if I must die, I’d rather do it sooner than later. I’ll be less attached to people, and people will be less attached to me.

Now that I’m back at Hogwarts and my duty is approaching, it’s probably a good time for me to start easing away from everyone else. I need to keep to myself, like the way it was before Hogwarts. “I need to keep everyone I can as far from me as I can—which I have been failing at recently and must find a way to rectify. Those who get too close wind up in life-threatening danger or wind up dead. I don’t like those odds, especially with my time running out. Am I free to go?” Neither professor responds, so I turn around and make my way to the common room.

I have only just closed the door to the Slytherin Dungeon and turned my back when it opens again. “What the hell was that?” I turn back around and see Snape, who glances over his shoulder as if to make sure no one is there and closes the door to the common room.

“It was the truth, Professor, why are you so angry with me?”

He huffs with annoyance. “I can respect the difficult situation in which you have found yourself so recently. I can respect that you are struggling to come to terms with it. But, Merlin, you sounded suicidal again! Do you realize—”

“That Voldemort would punish you if I died while in your care, regardless if I am the one who took my own life?”

“No,” he says. “If the professors here at Hogwarts are alerted to the possibility that a student might be suicidal, they will keep a close watch on them—discreetly, of course, but a close watch nonetheless. You might be talented at acting on the spot—unless of course you are as flustered as you were a moment ago—but you cannot pretend to be something you are not for the remainder of the year. Your secret will get out, and then what? The Dark Lord will drag you out of Hogwarts before you have a chance to master Occlumency, and both of our lives will be in grave danger.”

“Professor, I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Professor—”

“Silence!” Snape reaches into his robes and pulls out a wand I immediately realize to be mine. “Do you want this back?” I reach for it, but he jerks it away. “Because the only way you are getting your hands back on this is if you pull yourself together. You stop talking about what you must do for the Dark Lord, you stop saying how short your life will be, you stop voicing any of those problems, because they will only bring scrutiny upon you and will lead to more people learning the truth about you.”

“Oh, forgive me, Professor,” I snap, “that I am struggling with the idea of _being forced to have Lord Voldemort’s child_. I’m sorry that sometimes I have no choice but to voice my apprehension. I am oh-so-sorry that I am unable to keep to myself the _ever-growing turmoil that is my bloody life!_ ”

“Do you really believe you are the only person who struggles because of the Dark Lord? Are you that selfish, Rodgers? Do not pretend—”

“I might not be the only one who struggles, but I am so damn certain that I am the only person who is going through what I am going through! No one else will ever understand! And you know what? It’s easy to speak freely with McGonagall. I don’t know why, but it is. And it’s nice to know that someone cares about _me_ and not what might happen to them because of me! Which is why I have to stop speaking with people like her! I don’t want to leave behind people like her who care about me and are going to mourn me, you know? I just…need to isolate myself. How can I justify letting all of them grieve me when I can just step away and keep them at arm’s length?”

Snape looks utterly disgusted with me, and I don’t know why I deflate so quickly when I see it. “If any professor—Professor McGonagall included—begins to openly question your mental state, I will report to the Dark Lord that it is no longer safe for you at Hogwarts because there are some who are piecing together the truth of your identity. You will be locked away in Malfoy Manor once more, except this time there will be no escaping it after just a few days. Do I make myself clear?”

I do not remove my eyes from his raging glare. “Yes. I’ll keep everything bottled up, and I’ll stay away from everyone so they don’t wonder if I’m fine or not, and we can forget this ever happened. I just need my wand back.”

He hands over my wand and strides from the room without looking back. Which works well for me because I, Aurelia Celaeno Lestrange, need time to be alone to pull myself together.


	15. Chapter 15

After spending the rest of my day in solitude in my dormitory, I decide that this is not the best thing for me in the current situation. So I cast the Disillusionment Charm over myself, as well as the Silencing Charm, and exit the Slytherin Dungeon. I’ve made it to the top of the stairs when I hear, “Where are you going, Rodgers? Not off to break our deal, are you?”

 _How does he see me?_ I glance over my shoulder. Snape is at the bottom of the stairs his wand drawn but not aimed. I keep walking, ignoring his footsteps following me up the stairs. “Where could you possibly need to go under the Disillusionment Charm?” I refuse to say a word to him. “You didn’t take a right there. Is it not Professor McGonagall whom you are currently searching for?”

He follows me through every corridor, taking every turn that I take, and _I don't know how he can see me_. “Ah, the entrance hall,” his voice floats up to me, “how odd. Just where do you plan on going?” I can see the doors to the castle, but if I step through them, I fear he might attack. “Surely if you were just going to the grounds, you would not have seen fit to disillusion yourself, would you? Are you running again, Rodgers? Must I take your wand from you once more? What would your dear mum say about you trying to escape again? Surely you remember what happened last time?”

I reach for the door. “I don’t believe so, Miss Rodgers.” The door does not budge. “Not until you tell me where you’re off to, at least. No student is allowed to leave the grounds. Why don’t you remove the charm and speak?”

“Severus?” I turn around and see McGonagall walking toward Snape, watching him carefully.

Snape seems caught off guard for only a second. “Professor McGonagall,” he greets her. His eyes land on me again. “It seems the two people you had been trying avoid are the very ones who have you cornered, Rodgers. Now why don’t you answer my question?”

“Severus—”

“I’m not speaking to the air, I assure you. Young Miss Rodgers stands right there, disillusioned, trying to escape Hogwarts.”

McGonagall’s eyes flutter in my direction, but it seems that she cannot see me because she still seems just as confused now as she did a moment ago. “Dammit, Professor, _how can you see me_?”

“Rodgers?”

Snape says, “It’s not you I see, but your wand.” McGonagall’s eyes widen, and even I look down at my wand and can see it. It’s dull white instead of invisible.

“I—”

The opening of the entrance hall doors distracts me. This is my chance. Filch comes to a complete standstill when he sees McGonagall and Snape, and I take this opportunity to dodge around him and sprint from the castle. I don’t look back, nor do I remove the Disillusionment Charm until I reach Hogsmeade. I quickly make my way to the Three Broomsticks, which is not currently very busy. Zoe is working behind the counter, and when she sees me, her face breaks into a wide smile. “Marcus!” she exclaims when I go over to her. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

“I was put on lockdown. I only just got my wand back.”

“Are you still with…the professor?”

“I’m in Hogwarts now, actually.”

“I will need a full explanation for that in half an hour when my shift ends.”

“Then I will meet you back here in half an hour. There’s something I need to do.” Then I leave the Three Broomsticks and Disapparate.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is just as busy as usual, and I work my way through the crowd to find Fred. After searching both floors of the joke shop and finding no Fred, I go back to the register where Verity stands watching the customers. “Hi,” I greet her.

“You haven’t been here in a while,” she comments.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy. Is either Fred or George around?”

She shakes her head. “They left for dinner with their family about thirty minutes ago.”

“Thanks.” I leave the shop and Apparate once more. The Burrow looks just as inviting as ever, and I waste no time rushing to the door and knocking. The noise inside quiets down for a second, and I knock again. All noise inside silences. I knock once more.

Then I hear a quiet, “Who’s there?” come through the door.

“Charlotte,” I answer.

Another short silence before, “What did your parents name you?”

“Aurelia.”

The door opens, and Mrs. Weasley smiles apologetically. “We’re sorry, dear, but you can never be too safe with the Death Eaters.”

“No, no, I understand.”

“Come in. It’s good to see you.”

Arms are around me before I have a chance to say anything. “You’re alive!” Fred rejoices, slightly lifting me into the air. “How did you manage to get away?”

“Bellatrix took me out of the cellar for dinner,” I lie. “I asked for just a few hours of sleeping on one of the beds in the guest room to get away from her and—”

“You’ve not had a bed?” Mrs. Weasley asks, appalled.

“Not in the cellar.”

Mrs. Weasley now seems furious. “We’ll find you a place to stay, you will not be going back there.”

“I don’t have much time before Bellatrix will realize I’ve taken my wand from her. You’ll all be in danger if I stay long, and I won’t do that to you. I just wanted to see Fred while I had a chance. Let him know I’m alive and well.”

Fred threads his fingers through mine. “They took your wand from you?”

“Yeah. Draco said he’d buy me some time if he could, but—”

“You’re trusting Malfoy now?” Harry asks as he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny enter the room.

“Well, yeah, he’s the only person in the manor who has offered to help me at all.”

Harry watches me suspiciously. “Is he a Death Eater now like his father?”

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley scolds him.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what he is or isn’t. I just know that he’s been kind.”

“You’ve been living with them since June but don't know what they’ve been doing?”

“Harry!” Hermione tries this time.

“ _I’ve been living in the cellar_ ,” I hiss at him, not sure why I’m annoyed considering this is all a lie anyway.

Bill and Fleur slowly stand and exit toward the kitchen, taking George with them. Something seems to occur to Mr. Weasley, and he leaves the room as well. Harry and I glare at one another. I can be trusted, apparently, even though my mother is Bellatrix Lestrange and killed Sirius Black, but it is too hard to trust me when I receive kindness from someone. Even if said kindness is all a lie.

“But you weren’t to begin with, were you?” he argues. “You must have heard something. You must know what Malfoy has been doing.”

“You think they trust me?”

“Both of you—”

“Voldemort wants you to be one of them, doesn’t he? He’s training you to be a Death Eater just like the rest of your family!”

“And you think I’d willingly be one of them?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley ushers the Golden Trio and Ginny out of the room. Then she turns to me, very obviously frustrated with me, and asks, “Have you eaten, Charlotte?”

“I’m not hungry. In fact, I believe it’s time that I leave. It won’t end well for me if Bellatrix discovers that I’ve left the manor.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Fred says.

“What was that about?” I ask when he closes the door behind us.

Fred sighs. “They had a run-in with Malfoy and his mother a couple of weeks ago. They were in Diagon Alley shopping for their Hogwarts stuff. Harry saw Malfoy go into Borgin and Burkes, swears Malfoy is working for You-Know-Who.”

“Draco was _what_?” Borgin and Burkes is a shop full of Dark Artifacts. I don’t think I want to know why Draco would have been in there.

“You didn’t know?”

“Of course not. The Malfoys don’t tell me their plans.”

“Well, Harry’s convinced Malfoy’s a Death Eater now.” Surely not. Snape would have told me, wouldn’t he? Or would he have? I don’t even really know the man. “But I don’t want to spend our time together talking about Malfoy,” Fred says with a smile.

I smile back at him and wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace. “Neither do I.” I don’t want to leave yet, but I have to because Snape might start searching for me. He knows I’m out of the castle, probably suspects that I’m with Fred, and if he was willing to use the Polyjuice Potion once before to find me, I’m sure he’ll use it again. “I have to go,” I sigh.

“I know,” he breathes. “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“When I get to Hogwarts, I’ll owl you.”

“Will I see you at the station?”

I shake my head. “Voldemort doesn’t want me on the train. Narcissa will escort me to Hogsmeade and walk me to the castle.”

“Give ’em hell if they try to hurt you.”

“Oh, I will,” I answer with a wink.

Fred presses a chaste kiss to my lips once more before we release each other and I Disapparate. I waste no time rushing to the Three Broomsticks. Zoe is standing just outside the door when I reach it. “Evening, Marcus,” she greets me.

“Evening. Walk with me.”

The two of us turn our backs on the inn and head toward her apartment. “So you’re at Hogwarts now then?”

“Yeah, which I guess I’m relatively happy about because I wasn’t sent to Malfoy Manor. It could be worse.”

“How’d Snape get that approved? Seems like it would raise some questions.”

“I…” Hmmm. She has a good point. “I guess that’s something I’ll need to ask him. I fear when I get back inside the castle, I won’t be allowed to leave again. I ran off without his permission.”

She laughs quietly. “Proud of you, Marcus. Show the man who’s boss.”

“You say that now, but I sort of did this too much over the holiday. They locked me away at one point because I kept running. It probably wasn’t the best idea to do it again.”

She glances at me. “So why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know,” I confess. “I just…I don’t know. Wanted to get away from them.”

“Well, either way I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, I am too.” Then I suddenly blurt out, “My mother took me to my grave.”

Zoe grabs my arm and stops us, her face full of concern. “Merlin, Charlotte, you should have led with that! What happened?”

I glance around the village. “Let’s keep walking.” Once we do, I say, “She told me that she couldn’t lose me twice and that Hogwarts isn’t safe this year. She said that someone’s going to die.”

“But she didn’t say who?”

“No, and my biggest fear…my biggest fear is that…it’ll be Draco doing the killing.”

She purses her lips. “We’ll finish this conversation once we get inside the flat so I we can put up spells. I don’t trust talking about this in the open.”

I nod. “That’s probably for the best.”

“So about your grave…”

“I was five days short of my first birthday when they thought I died. My second name is Celaeno.”

“Celaeno?”

“It’s a star apparently. The Black family tradition is to name your child for a star. I don’t know why, but it’s a thing.”

“Except your parents broke that and named you for Marcus Aurelius.”

“Yes. And about that, there was a quote on the stone. ‘ _Death is a cessation from the impression of the senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors of the mind, and the servitude of the body._ ’ Apparently it’s one of—”

“Marcus Aurelius’ quotes.” Her voice is sad.

“Yeah. Does it mean something to you?”

We enter her building. “Yeah,” she whispers. It’s not until we’ve made it up the stairs and to her apartment door that she adds, “It’s one of his passages that I dwelt on right after my parents…” She drifts off as we enter her apartment. Then she waves her wand, presumably putting up protections to keep our conversation quiet. “Don’t mind the mess, I’m still in the process of unpacking everything.” She leads me to the box-filled living area and sits down with me on the sofa. “Now, about this Draco thing.”

“Snape’s been teaching me Occlumency. And I used _Protego_ against him once. I feel like he _showed_ me a memory, Zoe, a memory of Narcissa on her knees before him, begging him to help Draco with what the Dark Lord has planned for him this year. Snape took the Unbreakable Vow. And now… Bellatrix said someone was to die at Hogwarts. I’m afraid Draco is being forced to kill someone.”

She watches me carefully for a moment. “Snape took the Unbreakable Vow to help Malfoy? Do you realize what this means, Charlotte?”

“He’s putting himself in danger to help my cousin.”

“He’s loyal to You-Know-Who. Why else would he agree to help complete You-Know-Who’s plans?”

“But he’s teaching me Occlumency to fight against Voldemort. He wouldn’t do that if he was loyal to him.”

She considers this for a moment. “Okay, say he is against You-Know-Who, are you sure you can trust him?”

“He’s against Voldemort and is helping me learn to resist Voldemort. Of course I trust him.”

“But can you be _absolutely certain_ that he’s against You-Know-Who?” She waits for a second before breaking my silence with, “The answer is that you can’t. He’s an accomplished Occlumens. If not, you wouldn’t be having him teach you.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t trust Snape?”

“I’m saying be careful.”

“I mean, maybe he took the Unbreakable Vow so he wouldn’t raise questions about his allegiances. How would it look if a Death Eater refused to help the Dark Lord’s plans be fulfilled?”

“You don’t have to convince _me_ , Marcus. You’ve spent the last two months living with him—for the most part, at least—so if anyone should know if he can be trusted, it’s you.”

“I believe he can be trusted.” I look away from her. _But can Snape really be trusted? I lived with him for two months and I hardly know anything about him._

She waves her wand at the door again. “Would you like some tea before you’re forced to return to the castle?”

“That’d be perfect, but I don’t think I have enough time. I’m afraid Snape might come searching for me.”

“Do you really think he’d do that?”

I walk over to the kitchen area where she’s busy putting the purple kettle on the stove and searching through her teas until she finds the one she wants. “Do you really think he wouldn’t?”

“Well…you might have a point.” That doesn’t stop me from waiting for tea anyway.

We fall into a comfortable silence while the water boils. As the water heats up, a swirling white pattern forms on the teapot. “I charmed it to do that when it’s ready,” she answers my unasked question.

“So have you drawn or painted anything else?” I ask as she pours me a cup of tea and sets it down in front of me.

Zoe flinches at my question and clears her throat. “I mean, um, yeah, of course.”

I stay long enough to finish my tea before leaving, making sure not to ask about her paintings anymore. I don’t let myself get distracted as I walk up to the castle because I simply cannot waste any more time. But even that is not enough to help me, for when I open the doors to the entrance hall, I see Snape leaning against the stone wall, watching the doors. “For a while there I believed you learned your lesson about running off,” he comments.

“What?” I laugh. “Do you expect to send me back to the manor to rot in the cellar until term begins? How suspicious would that be, Professor?”

“Go back to the dungeon, Rodgers.”

I don’t know why, but I obey without resistance, following behind him. “Speaking of suspicions—”

“I don’t believe we were.”

“Well, _I_ was. So, speaking of suspicions, how did you get it approved that I come to Hogwarts early?” He remains silent as we descend into the dungeons. “I mean, it is rather dangerous, me being here, isn’t it? Because how would you get it approved for me to come early unless you had a good standing with the Dark Lord, who has kept me locked away in Malfoy Manor until now? I mean, I just think it’s important that I know what the cover story is, don’t you?”

Snape glances at me as we reach his office door. “Narcissa Malfoy simply could not stand you in her presence any longer, something about your constant disrespect of her husband, and she and Professor Dumbledore worked it out so that you might arrive early.” He opens the door to his office, and I follow him inside. “How was I to know that you would be at the school prior to the rest of the students? That has nothing to do with me.”

 _Why did I follow him in here?_ “And Voldemort—”

“Do not use the Dark Lord’s name.”

“Right, sorry. And the _Dark Lord_ was okay with just setting me free?”

Snape sits down behind his desk. “Do you believe you’re free?”

“Well,” I say as I take the seat across from him, “I did leave the grounds for a bit today. Is that not freedom compared to what I’ve been living in for the past few weeks?”

“You won’t be leaving Hogwarts again anytime soon,” he says nonchalantly, turning his attention to something on his desk.

“And just how are you planning to stop me?”

A few minutes of him silently writing on a piece of parchment confirms my suspicions that he won’t be answer my question. So I ask another, “How did you know I left the common room? And how could you see my wand? Did you charm my wand? Is the Disillusionment Charm just never going to work for me again?”

Finally, Snape looks up at me. “I cast a charm on the entrance of the common room.”

“What charm?”

He watches me indifferently.

“Did you create it?”

Snape goes back to writing once more.

“Could you teach it to me?”

He ignores this question as well.

“So will you always be able to see my wand now?”

“Only when you pass through the charm.” He doesn’t even give me the courtesy of looking up at me when he says this.

“So when will you remove the charm?”

“When the other students arrive.”

I huff loudly. “So basically, when I want to get away from Hogwarts, I have to run quickly.”

Snape glances at me. “I have not yet confined you to the castle, Miss Rodgers, but if you keep pushing your luck, I will have no choice. The grounds will be off limits, and you will be incapable of leaving the castle at all. Your only contact with the outside will be the owls, and that’s only if I’m feeling generous and allow you to visit the Owlery. You said last year that you considered yourself a prisoner here at Hogwarts. Do you want to find out what that would truly feel like?” I open my mouth, but no words come out. “Yes, I thought you’d choose to behave.”

I scowl at him. “And just how do you plan on doing that? Is that even possible?”

Snape’s hand twitches, and he stops writing. “I charmed the Slytherin Dungeon so I would know when you left. Are you questioning whether or not I would be able to confine you to the castle?”

“But why would you do that? I’m not a real student, the school year hasn’t even started, and I really shouldn’t even be here right now. Why would you lock me in here?”

“Your mother found you within minutes of you leaving my presence. What’s to stop her from doing that again?”

“Who says I don’t want her to?”

“ _Charlotte_ , your mother is a dangerous woman—”

“And you’re not? Dangerous, I mean.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange is not someone you want to be around anymore than necessary, and—”

“ _She is my mother._ ”

“Which is why it is even more dangerous for you to be around her,” he counters. “And since when does it matter to you that she’s your mother? I remember very specifically that you didn’t want any sort of connection with her when you first discovered who she is. You don’t need to be around her.”

“You’re afraid I’ll become like her, aren’t you?” I scoff. “Do you—”

“You won’t become like her, but she will do her best to influence you.”

“And you fear I’ll turn toward the Dark Lord and do my best to serve him and all of our lessons will be for naught and you’ll be discovered as the defected Death Eater that you are? I lived in your house for two months and yet you honestly believe I would serve Voldemort—yes, Snape, _Voldemort—_ willingly?”

His jaw clenches. “Your mother can be very manipulative.”

“And you can’t be?”

The pride on his face only makes me angrier. “I am trying to help you escape your duty, regardless if my tactics inconvenience you.”

I stand to my feet and walk toward the door. “You’re obnoxious,” I mutter as I leave his office. I swear I can almost hear his chuckle as I close the office door and head toward the common room.


	16. Chapter 16

In the Slytherin Dungeon I lie down on the sofa closest to the fire and close my eyes.

Bellatrix truly cares about me. Why else would Snape be so fearful of me spending time with her? If Voldemort’s best lieutenant cares for me and makes that known, Snape must fear that it will be enough to turn me toward the Dark Lord in an attempt to please her and make her care for me even more. At least, that’s what I want to believe.

Even if that’s not why Snape hates the idea of me being around Bellatrix, I still know she cares. She’s worried about me, which is why she took me to my grave. She doesn’t want anything to happen to me, she wants me to stay safe this year. Despite everything that’s happened between us, it feels oddly satisfying that she cares for me. I’ve never actually had a mother, and when I found her, she hated me. And now she worries for my safety. The thought brings a content smile to my face.

I wake up, still on the sofa, what feels like hours later. According to Alphard’s pocket watch, it’s seven ‘o’ clock, but I don’t know if it’s night or morning because the Slytherin common room _is in the damn dungeons with no windows to the outside world except for the lake._ I hate the location of Slytherin House. With an annoyed huff, I sit up and exit the common room. In a matter of seconds, Snape’s office door opens. “Professor,” I greet him. He watches me curiously. “Is it morning or night?”

“Morning.”

Of course. “When will our Occlumency lessons begin again?”

“There are things I must do to prepare for the term.”

“So…not today then?”

“No. But we will continue eventually.”

I don’t know why the thought of postponing lessons with him makes me feel so empty, but I nod and say, “Okay,” before turning back around and entering the common room again.

Bellatrix would probably still be sleeping right now, so it will do me no good to try to escape to see her. And though I don’t know _why_ , I know that I need to see her.

Perhaps she won’t care if I show up uninvited. Perhaps she’ll actually care that I’m making an effort to develop a relationship with her. I can sit down and talk to her, to my mother. The only other mother I’ve ever had in my life is Mrs. Stoico, and she’s dead. Now I have another chance. My real mother is back at Malfoy Manor, and she cares about me. She is very much alive.

My real mother wants me to be safe. She said so herself. She can’t lose me twice. I keep repeating this over and over trying to make sense of it. I’ve never felt like this before. _My mother doesn’t want to lose me again._

And…and I don’t think I want to lose her either.

I didn’t tell her that when we were standing by my grave, and now I regret it. Bellatrix needs to know that I care about her as well. I don’t care that she’s a Death Eater, because first and foremost, _she is my mother._ And currently all I want is to be wrapped in her embrace. I feel so alone right now, so empty, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I have no one.

My friends will be arriving soon for the start of the term. Snape has been mentoring me, doing his best to teach me Occlumency and nonverbal spells. McGonagall might be willing to help me with Conjuration again this year. Narcissa seems to care about me to an extent. I have more people in my life right now than I have ever had, especially in the past five years when I was absolutely alone. So I don’t understand why I now feel empty at the thought of not being with my mother. After all, _I didn’t have her for fifteen years._

But maybe that’s why I want to be with her now. I should have stayed at Malfoy Manor over the holiday. I should have used those months to get closer to Bellatrix instead of hiding in Spinner’s End to get away from her.

 _No, Charlotte, she is a Death Eater, it does not matter that she is your mother._ Bellatrix will always be one of Voldemort’s most faithful followers. I cannot forget that. Ever.

However, there’s only one way to know for certain if Bellatrix would want to have a relationship with me. And that’s only going to happen if I speak with her.

So, after waiting a few hours, I leave the common room once more, this time darting up the steps in an attempt to avoid Snape. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this._

“Not using the Disillusionment Charm, I see,” he calls up to me. “Is it safe to assume you won’t be leaving the Hogwarts grounds?”

“Aren’t you the one who constantly tells me not to assume things, Professor?” I call back to him. _I have to go see Bellatrix, I have to go see Bellatrix. Snape will not stop me_. “What if I were to tell you that I was going to speak with my mother?”

“Then I would Stun you and drag you back to the dungeons.”

“Is that so?” I laugh, still not looking back at him.

There is no answer for a few seconds, and when he finally growls, “Yes,” his voice comes from right beside me. A startled gasp escapes me. I glance over my shoulder to see Snape, smirking that he frightened me, take a step back, now an arm’s length away from me.

“Are you planning to follow me now instead of working on your professor-duties that apparently need to be finished before our Occlumency lessons begin?”

“Are you planning on running from Hogwarts again?”

“No,” I sigh. “Going to see my mother wasn’t going to work anyways.” Only because Snape refuses to let me walk through Hogwarts by myself. I mean, I understand why he’s doing it, but that doesn’t make it any more acceptable, in my opinion. My plans to go to Malfoy Manor won’t pan out well if the professor decides to guard my every movement. Eventually he’ll get tired of that, right? If I leave the Slytherin Dungeon often enough, he’ll give up trying to stop me from leaving Hogwarts. He’s too busy to deal with me constantly. “I’m on my way to McGonagall’s office.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Yes, because I am going to apologize to her.” Which, now that I mention it, is probably something I really should do.

Snape is walking by my side now but doesn’t speak, and I continue, “I said some things yesterday that I didn’t mean, and I feel like I should explain myself and apologize.” Snape remains silent still, and I can’t stop myself from adding, “I mean, she spent a lot of time helping me learn Conjuration, and I feel like I owe her an explanation because of it.” _Why am I saying all of this to him?_ Snape watches me with a false look of expectance. “I…what did I say?”

He shakes his head, his face impassive. “Oh, nothing. I was just waiting for you to apologize to _me_.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I spent a lot of time teaching you Occlumency and nonverbal spells,” he says dryly.

I steal a glance at him, almost able to see his wicked grin, but I’m at a bad angle so I can’t be sure if that’s what he is truly doing. “I’d apologize to you, Professor, but seeing that it’s your Dark Lord who caused all of this, I see no point.”

“The Dark Lord caused you to ‘stay distant’ from people, or however you so poorly worded your speech yesterday?”

“Yes.” I stop in front of McGonagall’s office door. “But unfortunately, I am out of time to explain it all to you.”

Yet he does not walk off.

“What are you—”

“Making sure you do not try to escape the castle.”

“So you’re just planning to stay there until I enter her office? Really? That seems a bit excessive, even for you, sir.”

He grimaces.

“Am I wrong?” I laugh.

Without another word, without even changing is stone-cold face, he reaches over and knocks on the door.

“Enter,” comes the other professor’s answer.

Snape stands aside. “Go on then. I’m sure you’d hate to keep Professor McGonagall waiting.”

I push the door open and leave that sallow-skinned professor behind. McGonagall offers me a kind, if strained, smile. I go and take the seat across from her. Although it has not moved its position since the last time I was here, the chair seems uncomfortably far away from her desk, so I drag it closer, ignoring the odd look she gives me as I do so.

This is not the first time I’ve spoken to McGonagall about things not pertaining to my schooling, but I’m unnerved now for reasons I do not understand. Perhaps I should have ran for it and gone to see Bellatrix.

For a few minutes too long, I sit there, opening my mouth to say something but failing to find my voice, and I’m sure I look like an unfortunate fish that has been caught on dry land. But the witch on the other side of the desk does not prompt me to speak, choosing to watch me silently instead. And if it hadn’t been for my Occlumency lessons with Snape, I would almost believe she’s reading my mind, but I know that feeling, and this is certainly not it. Finally, I manage to say, “I…there are some things…what I said…I…it…I don’t…it’s just…” I close my eyes and rub my mouth with my hand. No logical thought is forming in my mind. I have failed at the simple task of speaking, and all I really want to do is run off now to hide my shame.

I open my eyes to find McGonagall still just watching me with an unreadable expression. “Are you able to speak?”

“I don’t know…” I say. _There_ , at least I found a way to say _something_ rather than trying and failing. It’s not much, but it certainly is a victory compared to what happened just moments ago.

“If you would like to leave and come back when you can—”

“It’s not necessary, Professor,” I interrupt her. “I…I think…I think I’ll be able…”

She nods for me to start.

“Firstly, about the lying thing…I truly am sorry. I don’t…I don’t enjoy lying to you.” McGonagall doesn’t reply, so I continue, “Secondly, I…I’ve said some things…I think…I lose control, when it comes to Voldemort. I know…I know I should act—and think—as if things will change…I mean, I desperately want them to…but I can’t let myself”—this is not going as planned—“I can’t let myself think too much about it…just in case. Thirdly,” I push forward, “about keeping people out of my life and away from me in general…that was…” Mrs. Stoico. “Partially true, but it was uncalled for.” I tap my finger on her desk. “It just…people I get close to…end up in peril or…well, dead…no matter what I try…and I don’t want…well, you _or_ —and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this—Professor Snape, I guess…to go through that.”

McGonagall shifts in her seat. “You act as if there is an inevitable pattern.”

“There is.”

“I don’t believe there is. I believe you have experienced many unfortunate coincidences.”

“‘Unfortunate coincidences.’ What a delicate way of putting it.”

“I’m not phrasing it delicately for your benefit. I find it difficult to believe that there is any single person who can take with them a path of destruction that ruins lives in the way you are speaking of, Rodgers.”

I give her a disagreeing, sad grin. “It’s always followed me.” Her unconvinced face forces me to explain further. “I know she’s different now, but look at Bellatrix. Even as a baby, I had a tornado of destruction that followed me. Her life was utterly devastated because of me. Then there was this one girl in the orphanage who was a good friend of mine; she was adopted into an abusive family, ended up dead. Mrs. Stoico was…brutally murdered because I went back. And Avery was—”

“Avery?”

“The man who killed Mrs. Stoico.”

She pauses for a minute before catching me in a lie. “You said you never learnt the man’s name.”

“I…I lied,” I confess, now that I have no choice but to do so. “He called himself Avery, was a self-proclaimed Death Eater.”

“What happened to him?”

“You mean, besides when I—I mean, I killed him.”

She watches me.

I take a moment to steady my breathing again, to stop the sobs I feel threatening. “I went back to Mrs. Stoico, because Avery convinced me that it was the right thing to do. And, Merlin, she was so relieved to see me.” My hand finds my thigh and begins forcibly rubbing it, as if I’m trying to wipe his blood from my hand. “I was…in the front office with her… She was rejoicing with me for my safe return… I loved her…like a mother…” My other hands begins tapping the desk as I try to force back my tears. I should stop talking. But I can’t bring myself to shut up. “I had hardly ten…ten minutes—um—before she was…b-before he came… I didn’t have a wand yet, you know. I was—in a word—helpless. There was nothing I could do…” I stop tapping the table and use that trembling had to wipe eyes. Mrs. Stoico had been my first family. She had been there, running the orphanage, for as long as I could remember. “He grabbed me…by the neck…and tossed me against…against the wall.”

The memories, now that I’ve opened this door, are pouring in, every little detail going off like a firework. Mrs. Stoico had been so brave, but she had no chance of stopping him. I see it all happening again, as if I’m there again, as if I’m once more that scared child who begged for the evil man not to hurt the only mother I ever knew. My chest hurts; my throat seems to be closing; my vision blurs with tears. I don’t want to do this. I need to stop talking. I can bear this burden alone more easily than I can tell her the truth.

But I’ve started this, and my mouth continues on without my permission, spewing the secrets that I should have never begun sharing in the first place. “Mrs. Stoico—she-she grabbed a knife. But what good is that against a wand? I-I was cowering in the corner be-behind her while she attempted to fend off a wizard.”

“Rodgers—”

“Mrs. Stoico grabbed a _knife_ ,” I repeat, “a _knife_ to defend herself and me. Against a bloody wizard.” My hand is really hurting my thigh, but I still can’t pull it away.

“He…charmed the room…and he…he began Cruciating her. After a moment…he said I could make it stop…if only I went with him.” I shake my head, trying to make the sound of her shrieking in pain leave my brain. “I wouldn’t do it. I was too scared! And…and she…she begged for it to end…but I…I didn’t…I didn’t end it.”

“Rodgers—”

“She-she screamed for mercy, screamed for me to run. And I-I tried, but Avery threatened me. I stayed where I was. Mrs. Stoico pleaded for him to let-let me go.

“He commanded me to get behind him, because we were going to be leaving. And I-I obeyed him. But not—not without grabbing the knife, which had…fallen to the ground when…when she was first…Cruciated. I-I thought if-if I did what he told me to do, he would let her go.” I close my eyes, swallow down the sob I feel building in side of me, and take a breath. I wipe my face. “But he didn’t.”

“Rodgers—”

I look up at her but ignore her and continue, “Something—something snapped in me.”

“Rodgers—”

“When I got behind him, he started laughing, saying something about how-how Mrs. Stoico had failed. He-he continued Cruciating her, even though I had obeyed him.” I clear my throat to loosen it, but there’s nothing I can do to stop the tears or the pain in my chest. “Then he…he used the Killing Curse…and he stood there…laughing at her dead body…saying she…she deserved it…and I…I broke.” I do not look at her as I say, “I still had the knife. And before I could stop myself, I plunged the knife into his back.”

“Rodgers—”

“He…he staggered for a moment…before falling to his knees…” I clench my fists and press them against my thighs as hard as possible. “I…I pulled the knife out…and thrust it in again…” I can feel his warm blood splashing onto my face, can taste the iron in his blood as it creeps into my mouth. “I-I jumped onto his back. And I just…started plunging the knife into him…over and over and over…and over…and over again, not caring—not caring that he was…he was dead.”

I take a shaky breath and stare hatefully down at my hand. I clasp my hands together in my lap. “He had killed her, Professor, and something took over me…I just wanted revenge…” The tears running down my cheeks eerily remind me of the blood that had been splattered on my face. “I shouldn’t have gone back. I begged him, I was on my knees, begging him to spare her.

“And when he refused…” I shake my head. That’s the kill I once told her I enjoyed. It was one done of vengeance and anger, not self-defense as almost all the others had been. I wanted him to hurt, and I had enjoyed plunging that blade into him.

“Rodgers—”

“Voldemort has had a way of taking everyone I’ve ever cared about, Professor, and he always has. Even when I was a child and he was gone. I don’t want that to happen to you, which is why I…said what I did earlier, about keeping people out of my business and out of my life.” I clear my throat again, unable to look her in the face after what I’ve just confessed. “I’ve done things, terrible things. Killed many more people. My life’s already tainted with the mark of Voldemort. There’s no way to escape it—it’s always going to be there. The least I can do is try to shield those I care about and those who care about me, you know. I can do my best to soften the blow when he finally comes for me.”

“Rodgers,” McGonagall says slowly, like she’s trying to think of something to say. I meet her eyes for the first time since I stopped talking. I can’t tell if it’s because everything is blurry to me, but it looks like her eyes are watering. Either way, I try not to think about it. “There are a number of people whose lives have been marred by him. You do not have to let him—”

“It’s too late for that, Professor. When he wants something, he’ll find a way to get it. And he wants me to have his child. How am I supposed to find a way out of that?”

“The Order will find a way to defeat him. Harry Potter—”

“ _Is just a boy!_ He got lucky once! Twice! But that’s not enough to defeat Lord Voldemort himself.”

“Professor Dumbledore is on our side as well. The one wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever feared is on our side of this war. You won’t have to go through with this.”

“And I have to sit here while everyone else does what they can to stop this. I have no control over my own life.” Her eyes fill with sadness. I shake my head irritably.

But maybe…maybe I won’t have to deal with losing everyone. What if the Order actually _can_ bring down Voldemort before I have to face my duty? What if they actually manage to pull that off? What if they destroy the Dark Lord before he destroys everything else? Then an idea comes to me. I can help protect myself. I don’t have to sit around and do nothing. And now is as good a time as any to ask. “I want to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

Her lips go thin. “Rodgers, it’s honorable that you would want to be in the Order, but with you having to be around the Death Eaters and Voldemort, who is one of the most skilled Legilimens there has ever been, I’m not sure it would be safe for you.”

“But I’ve become rather skilled at Occlumency. He would never know.”

“Rodgers—”

“I’ve mastered it enough to keep my relationship with Fred and my relationship with Draco from him. I’ve mastered it enough to keep my friendship with you and Harry and Ron and Hermione all from him!” That’s because he’s never used Legilimency against me before, but I can keep Snape from seeing things, so I have hope that I can keep Voldemort from seeing it too. “I can do this. I want to join. I will not sit idly by while others risk themselves to take him down.”

She doesn’t reply.

“I thought you’d help me.” I say that as if I had been planning to ask this, as if it isn’t just something that occurred to me. “I thought…that after everything I’ve told you about what will happen to me…you would want to help me stop him. You would want me to be in the Order, to have a hand in doing something that might save me from him. I have less than a year, Professor. And less than six months if all goes the way he plans.” I meet her eyes again. “Please.”

McGonagall nods at me, finally, a few minutes later. “I can make no promises regarding Professor Dumbledore’s decision, but I will speak to him about it.”


	17. Chapter 17

I can’t remain in McGonagall’s presence much longer after finally admitting what I did to that Death Eater so many years ago, and I leave her office pretty quickly after doing my best to convince her that it is best for me to join the Order of the Phoenix. Once the door is closed behind me and I’ve walked down the corridor just a few steps, an idea comes to me, and I start toward the Owlery, summoning parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink to myself as I do.

I reach the Owlery, praying that Snape doesn’t come looking for me, and I scribble a short note.

_I need to see you._

_Aurelia_

Then I tie the note onto an owl’s leg. “Bellatrix Lestrange, Malfoy Manor.” The owl flies off, and I rush down to the Slytherin Dungeon, sighing in relief when the door closes behind me. _Snape doesn’t know._ Smiling with that knowledge, I plop onto the sofa and take out my wand.

I succeeded with the Water-Making Spell over the holiday at the Burrow. _What was the next thing McGonagall had planned to teach me?_ I believe it was inanimate objects. Good, because that’s what I need the most. I wave my wand and, with the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell, manage to Conjure a quill again. I’d be thrilled about this if not for the fact that this is the only thing I have ever had any success Conjuring.

But everyone has to start somewhere, I suppose. With this in mind, my next attempt at Conjuration is with a snuffbox. Eventually I’ll work my way up to Conjuring larger things, but I don’t want to push my luck right now. So I continue working on this one object.

And I continue trying to find ways to irritate Snape. That’s one of the things at the top of my list. I need to make sure he doesn’t question me every time I leave the common room, so over the next three days I make sure to leave the Slytherin Dungeon at least eight times a day. I never leave the castle, much less the grounds. I need Snape to trust me, just in case I feel the need to run off again.

As I was hoping, he grows frustrated with my mindless wandering. By dinner on the third day of this, Snape decides that he no longer needs to follow me to ensure that I’m staying at Hogwarts. He claims he does not have the time for it anymore, especially since I do nothing other than roam around, and that’s exactly what I needed.

It’s at breakfast on the fourth day, when I’m sitting in the Great Hall alone, that two owls, one of them I recognize from the Hogwarts Owlery and the other a tiny toffee brown one I have never seen, swoop in, each dropping letters onto the table. I push my empty plates aside and both of them.

_Do not let Snape stop you. Come here at seven this evening._

It’s not signed, of course, but I know exactly who sent it. And Snape is going to kill me when he finds out. A smile breaks across my face at the thought. I open the second letter.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble for staying over so long earlier this week. I know Snape can be a pain. Don’t let him bother too much though, will you?_

_As you probably noticed, I got an owl. He’s well-trained and will wait in the Owlery for you to send him back with an answer. His name is Milo. Be nice to him, and he’ll be nice to you._

_Anyways write me back. I’ve been worried about you, and it would be nice to know if you’re alive and well and not being punished for staying for tea with me. Have you been put on lockdown up at the castle? Shall I perform a daring rescue and break you out? Because I will if I don’t hear from you in a reasonable amount of time. You’re not a real student, so it don’t think you should be forced to stay there, especially when no other student is even there right now._

_Talk to you soon,  
Zoe _

_P.S. “Be like the cliff against which the waves continually break; but it stands firm and tames the fury of the water around it.” – Marcus Aurelius_

In spite of myself, I throw my head back with laughter. Apparently I shall never live down being named for that damn philosopher. I tuck the letters into my robes and walk back down to the Slytherin Dungeon. Once there, I take a seat, wave my wand to summon some parchment and utensils with which to write, and begin my response to Zoe.

_Dear Zoe,_

_Snape was angry, sure, but I’ve not been put on lockdown. Nor have I been punished, really. He follows me now whenever I leave the Slytherin Dungeon. Apparently I can’t be trusted not to run off again. I mean, he has reason to distrust me, but it is rather annoying, to say the least._

But is it really? It never really bothers me when he trails me through the castle, I am afraid to admit. But I won’t tell her that.

_When did you get Milo? Is he good company, or are you working so often that company is the last thing you’re concerned with?_

_I greatly appreciate you being worried about me. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Honestly. And a daring rescue would be incredibly welcome. Perhaps you could find a hippogriff to fly into the castle. Though, if you really want to be intimidating, you need to have a sword as well as your wand. Dress like a warrior. It’ll be unlike anything anyone here has ever seen. Besides that, Filch will go mad if he sees you._

_Perhaps you’ll manage to give Snape a fright in the process? And we won’t be punished, really, all things considered. I mean, I’m not a real student, and you’ve graduated. It’ll be grand._

_How’re things going at the Three Broomsticks?_

_Give Milo a treat for me,  
Charlotte Marcus _

_P.S. I bet you thought I’d have a Marcus Aurelius quote here, didn’t you? Wrong. I don’t know anything about him really, I just felt I should add a postscript. You’re welcome._

I read through it a few times before deciding I’m good with it. Then I fold it up and wait a long while, practicing Conjuration some more, before leaving the common room to send it to her. I wait by the door to the Slytherin Dungeon for Snape to emerge from his office. “Going to the Owlery, Professor,” I inform him, holding up the letter. “I have a letter to send.”

“To whom?”

“Zoe Accrington.”

He nods once and disappears into his office.

Good. I start toward the Owlery, managing not to run into a single professor on my way. Milo swoops down to me, and I tie the letter to his leg. Then he flies away. Now all I have to do is waste time until I can leave to go to Malfoy Manor. I only have half an hour to waste, which shouldn’t be too hard.

When I reach the entrance hall, I find a bald man with a fat belly standing there. I freeze when I see him, unsure what to do now that someone will witness me leaving the castle. _Who is this? How have I never seen him before?_ “Hello,” I greet him awkwardly. He turns, his face full of surprise when his eyes land on a student. “I’m Charlotte Rodgers.” I offer him my hand.

He seems reluctant to take it but finally accepts the gesture. “Professor Slughorn. Professor Dumbledore did not tell me there would be students here this early.”

“Oh, that. I was given special permission by Professor Dumbledore to arrive early. I’m a transfer from Durmstrang, so I don’t really have a place to stay anywhere near here.”

“I don’t believe I recognize your surname. Did your parents attend Hogwarts?”

“I don’t believe so.”

He nods indifferently. “A transfer from Durmstrang Institute here early under special permission of Professor Dumbledore. That must be quite the story.”

“I like to think so.”

He smiles kindly. “And will you be in Potions this year, Rodgers?”

“Doubtful. It was never really a subject I enjoyed.”

“Did you receive an O.W.L. in it?”

“Exceeds Expectations.”

“And you don’t want to continue learning about that particular subject?”

“Not really, sir.”

He loses all interest in me after that, and I can’t say I’m disappointed. When he wanders off and turns the corner, I dart out of the castle. I glance back, my eyes intently searching each window I can see, but I can find no one. So I sprint toward Hogsmeade. The moment I reach the village, I Apparate.

Bellatrix is sitting in her room on the sofa before the fireplace when I arrive. She glances up and smiles at me. “Mum,” I greet her with a grin. She stands to her feet, and I rush over to her and throw my arms around her. Something about my mother holding me in her arms brings a strong sense of joy to my chest, and I tighten my hold on her, smiling into her shoulder.

“Aurelia,” she says happily, cradling my head in her hand like she did the last time I hugged her. “I hope Snape has been treating you kindly.”

“As kindly as Severus Snape can treat someone, I suppose.”

She pulls away from me and motions for me to sit down next to her on the sofa, which I do. “Has something happened to you?”

I shake my head. “No, no, it’s just…I wanted to see you.”

For a moment, a pain flashes in her eyes. “So he’s not mistreating you in any way?”

“No, not at all.” I reach over and take her hand. She inhales sharply, tensing a bit, but doesn’t jerk her hand away. “I just…I realized that I never said…I mean, I want to say…when we met at my grave…I never got to say…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you either.” _Are her eyes watering? Or does it just look like that because mine are?_

“You won’t,” she assures me, cupping my cheek with her free hand. “You won’t lose me, Aurelia.”

I close my eyes and rest my head in her palm before reaching up and taking that hand in mine as well. “I’m so scared, Mum. If someone is going to die this year…where will that leave me? Will I be in danger? Will…will _you_ be in danger?”

“Aurelia—”

“It’s just…I know we haven’t really gotten along that well, but I mean, I so recently got my mother back, and I don’t think I can face—”

“You won’t!” she exclaims, looking at me with the look of a mother’s love that I never dreamt I would see. “Both of us will be fine. You won’t lose me. And I won’t lose you.”

“How can you be so sure?” I whisper.

“The Dark Lord has informed me of his plans, and your safety is one of his top priorities. Snape should be watching after you. But do not trust him.” I squeeze her hands. “If you need anything, you know you can owl me. It must be discreet, but you can owl me.”

I nod, unable to look her in the eye right now. “You bought my books for Hogwarts? And my robes?”

“You’re my daughter. I couldn’t let you go without.”

“And you knew my measurements?”

She shrugs. “I made an educated guess.”

I smile at this, a deep guilt suddenly weighing down on me.

“What’s wrong?”

I clear my throat. “It’s just—I shouldn’t have left this summer. I should’ve stayed here with you. I should’ve—I should’ve tried to spend time with you. You’re my mum, and we hardly know each other.” We’ve only ever really fought.

“You want—you want to spend time together?”

“Yes.”

She’s about to say something, but she stops and releases me, grabbing her left arm. “I’m afraid I’m being summoned. You must return to Hogwarts.”

“Can’t I just wait in here for you to return? I can stay here for the next week instead of being trapped at Hogwarts.”

Bellatrix shakes her head sadly. “You can’t.”

“Why?” I ask as we both stand back up.

“The Dark Lord would not approve.” I swallow down my disappointment. I know we don’t always get on the best, but…I want to change that. “Stay safe, Aurelia.”

I offer her a weak smile, then pull her into my arms. “You too.”

She holds me tightly for a moment, then pulls away, takes my face in her hands, and kisses my forehead. “You must leave now.”

I Disapparate back to Hogsmeade, where I rush to the Three Broomsticks and see Zoe cleaning one of the tables. “Zoe!”

She turns and grins when she sees me.

“I’m probably about to be put on lockdown until the other students arrive.”

“Sneak out again?” she laughs.

“Yeah, but it’s totally fine. However, I might not be able to write you anymore until the others arrive.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“I have to get back now before he gets angrier.”

She nods understandingly, and I run back to Hogwarts.

I have only just thrown the door shut and started dashing to the Slytherin Dungeon when a spell throws me into the air, smacking me against the ceiling and dropping me to the stone floor. Another spells sends me sliding across the stone until I hit the wall. I push myself up to my feet and whip out my wand, rounding on my attacker. Only, I can’t seem to find them. I circle around, frantically looking for wherever the next attack might come from, but I am too late to stop the red flash from hitting me square in the chest.

When I finally awaken, the first thing I notice is that my arms are tied to a chair, as are my legs. My neck aches terribly, probably from the way my head has just been hanging for who knows how long. I force myself to look straight ahead, only cracking my neck once. Snape sits at his desk, not paying me the slightest bit of attention. “What happened, Professor?” I ask throatily.

He glances up. “You’re awake.” Then goes back to whatever he’s working on.

“I am. What happened?”

“I trusted you not to run away from Hogwarts again, and you took advantage of that. Did you go to see Accrington in Hogsmeade or Weasley in Diagon Alley? Perhaps you went to see Andromeda Tonks?”

“You don’t know where I went?”

He eyes me suspiciously.

“How did you even know I left? I wasn’t gone long.”

“Long enough.”

“But—”

“Ah, you were with your mother. How...childish of you, to want to see your dear mummy when things go poorly for you. Whatever happened to the mutual loathing between you and dearest Bellatrix?”

I pull at the ropes on my wrists for a moment before giving up and looking back to the professor. “I don’t know, _sir_. I want her to be part of my life, considering I’ve gone so long without a mother. Now, would you mind releasing my from these ropes, giving me my wand back, and sending me on my way?”

Snape picks up my wand from his desk. “Did I not speak to you about the dangers of trying to establish a relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“You did, but do I truly ever listen? Besides, she says the same thing about you. She says you can’t be trusted.”

“And you would have me believe that you trust her, someone who has Cruciated you”—I flinch at the truth in his words—“more than the person who has been mentoring you for the past two months, the person—”

“Who imprisoned me in his home and turned me into a house-elf?”

“You made the terms of our deal, I simply accepted them.”

He’s right of course. I trust him more than I trust her. I spent two months living in his house, cooking our meals, learning Occlumency from him. Bellatrix is a Death Eater who Cruciated the Longbottoms to insanity. “Fine,” I sigh. “Just…please let me go?”

Snape waves _my_ wand, and the ropes disappear from my arms and legs. I stand walk toward his desk to get my wand back, but he pulls it away before I can grab it. “You will no longer be able to leave the castle. The Owlery, as well, will be off limits to you. We can’t have you trying to contact your mother again, can we?”

I scowl at him.

“You brought this on yourself.” He hands me my wand.

I snatch it from him and storm from his office. I mean, he’s right. I should not have left the castle again after his last warning. But I needed to speak with my mother. So much for keeping myself distant from her.

I can’t bring myself to go back to the Slytherin Dungeon yet. Instead, I make my way to McGonagall’s office.

But do I really want to talk to her right now? I just so recently told her what I did to Avery. What if she’s finally given it thought and realizes that I’m completely insane and far too much like Bellatrix for my own good. I mean, Merlin, I went to see Bellatrix just a few moments ago. _I went to see my Death Eater mother because I wanted to_. I wanted to see the Death Eater because I needed to talk to someone. _And I chose her._

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

What kind of question is that? I know what’s wrong with me: Despite my original desire to keep a cold relationship with Bellatrix, I have found myself wanting to be close with her. But I don’t know what’s wrong with me that makes me want such a relationship with her.

I stop in front of McGonagall’s office. No, I should leave, shouldn’t I? I can’t face her right now. But I guess, maybe, it’d be best to know soon if she hates me, rather than finding out later. With that in mind, I timidly knock on the door. I’m about to turn around and walk off, hoping she hadn’t heard my knock so I don’t actually have to face her just yet, when I hear, “Enter,” and my heart plummets slightly.

“Professor,” I greet her quietly, refusing to sit down in front of her desk. “I have…I was wondering…the Conjuration lessons, will those be continuing this year? Or will it be a waste since I’m in the N.E.W.T. classes now?”

She is quiet for a short moment. “The Inanimatus Conjurus Spell will be taught in the seventh year class.”

I tap my fingers against my thigh. “So…it…it wouldn’t be a waste?” I ask softly. “If…if you’re still willing to help me, of course.”

At that, she honestly seems confused. “Why wouldn’t I be willing to help you?”

I bite my lip. “Well…because…you know…Avery…”

“Rodgers,” she says with a smile, “that wasn’t—”

“I murdered a man in cold blood.”

“It wasn’t killing cold blood to kill a man who was trying to abduct you and had just murdered someone you cared for.”

My eyes stray away from her. Of course Avery’s death is justified by that logic. But that Muggle child I killed after accidentally killing that man and woman? Nothing will ever change that. I _have_ killed in cold blood, even if she doesn’t believe it or know about it. I don’t deserve to be here at Hogwarts, nor do I deserve to be cared about by anyone, not with the past I’ve had. No, I deserve the hell Voldemort will put me through. It’s my punishment for all of the things I’ve done in my life.

“I can see by the look on your face that you do not believe me.”

“I mean, you make a compelling argument.”

“However, I am unsure if you will have time for Conjuration lessons this year.”

Does she know about my lessons with Snape?

“But I will let Professor Dumbledore speak with you about that.”

“And…and if there _is_ time?”

“Once a week, on the days when we both can.”

I nod, relief flooding me. Although I don’t deserve her forgiveness or her help, it is wonderful to know that she has given it. But I really don’t want to push my luck with her, so I say a quick goodbye and rush away. I’m headed toward the Slytherin Dungeon when I decide there is something I should try first, just to see if Snape has made good on his threat. I change course and make my way for the entrance hall.

I place my hand on the handle and give it a strong pull. Nothing. The next time I try, I pull with all of my might, and while the door does budge slightly, it does not open. My hands slip, and I find myself on my back on the stone floor. Great. So Snape wasn’t lying when he said I would be unable to escape the castle. “What a vindictive little shit,” I mutter.

Two feet stop by my face. I glance up and see Snape look down at me, a victorious half-grin on his face. “Did I not tell you that you would be unable to leave the castle, Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you told me,” I sigh, dropping my head onto the stone. “I was just hoping it was a lie, seeing as you tell so many of them.”

“The Owlery looks as if you can enter it, but you’ll be unable to. However, if you’d like to try it, I’d be more than happy to watch your failed attempts.”

“I believe I’m good, actually. Why don’t you run along and do all of those professor things that you need to get done?”

“And leave you lying on the stones, free from _vindictive_ taunts?”

I sit up and meet his eyes. Apparently he heard me muttering about him. “I’m not lying on the stones anymore, Professor. Feel free to leave.”

He doesn’t budge, and with a scathing glare, I stand to my feet and make my way back to the Slytherin Dungeon, already planning to remain there for as long as I can. Because what else is there for me to do now?


	18. Chapter 18

The other students should be arriving at Hogwarts within the hour, so for the time being, I make my way into the Great Hall. The four House tables are set up as normal, but it’s not the Slytherin table I find myself walking to—it’s the staff table I am walking toward, drawn to it for reasons I don’t really understand. I run my hand along it as I work my way around it and to chairs on the other side.

I sit down in the headmaster’s throne-like chair, fold my hands on the table, and stare out across the room, filling with a sense of authority. No wonder Umbridge wanted this seat so badly. Then, without warning, guilt washes over me. _Why am I sitting here?_ This is Dumbledore’s chair, I shouldn’t be here. But I don’t want to move.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice asks me.

I jolt and turn, expecting to see Snape, but it’s Dumbledore who walks toward me. “I’m sorry, Professor,” I say quickly as I vacate his throne. _How could I let this happen? That’s so embarrassing._ I should have left well enough alone and just not come up here to the staff table at all. Or at the very least, I should have left when I first realized it was a bad idea to be up here.

“It’s quite all right,” he says pleasantly. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”

“About what?”

Dumbledore sits in the headmaster’s chair and motions for me to sit in the one directly to his right, where McGonagall sits in during the meals. I obey without question. “I hear you want to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yes, sir.” It’s more intimidating talking to Dumbledore about this than it is with Snape or McGonagall, and I don’t why that is, especially since I so often tell McGonagall more than I should and since Snape already knows an uncomfortable amount about my past.

“Professor Snape tells me that he has been teaching you Occlumency. He said that you’re learning it quite well.”

“Did he really?” I can’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

“Indeed. You’ve been working on it for most of the summer holidays, and he said that you’ve kept him out of your mind on many occasions.”

I smile. _Why exactly did I find him intimidating?_ “Yes, Professor, it took me a while, but I’ve gotten the hang of it, I like to think. Or at least that part of Occlumency.”

Dumbledore smiles back. “But Lord Voldemort is a much more accomplished Legilimens than Professor Snape, Miss Rodgers, and I don’t know if you are prepared for how difficult it will be if you must use Occlumency against him while you are in the Order. It will be much different than applying it against Professor Snape.”

I look away from him. “So it’s a ‘no’ to joining the Order then?”

“I never said that.” My eyes dart back to him. “You come of age in November, Professor Snape informs me.” I nod, trying to resist the joy growing inside of me, trying not to let my hopes soar. “Then you should continue your Occlumency lessons with him until then. At that time, we will determine if you are prepared to apply Occlumency against Voldemort.”

“Do you think I’ll stand a chance of joining the Order?”

“Professor Snape is the greatest Occlumens I know. If anyone can prepare you, it is he.”

I pause for a second. “Pardon my frankness, Professor, but if Snape—”

“Professor Snape,” he says kindly.

“If he’s the greatest Occlumens you know, how…how can you trust him?”

Dumbledore looks at me over his half-moon spectacles. “Many people have asked me that very question,” he says. “But I trust Severus Snape with my life.” He doesn’t go any farther, so I assume that’s his final word on the subject. And I can’t help but resent how unhelpful that answer was. I need to know that Snape actually can be trusted and that I’m not just fooling myself. I need to be absolutely certain what side of this war he’s one—if he’s more loyal to the Order or to the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

I glance at his hand, noticing for the first time that it looks as if he recently plunged it into a fire where it burnt and shriveled and is now dying, stained with charred skin that I’m sure must hurt him severely. “What happened to your hand?”

Dumbledore looks down at it as if just realizing his hand is in such bad shape. “Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” His head turns to the door like someone is calling him, but there is no sound. “The others will be here shortly.” With that, he stands and walks away.

I leave the staff table too, but rather than leave the Great Hall, I go sit down at the Slytherin table.

The professors soon arrive and take their seats at the staff table, the students trickling in not long after. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy walk in without Draco, and against my will a slow panic builds in my chest. _Why is Draco not with them?_ He’s always with his disciples. Surely Voldemort hasn’t already done something to him. I mean, Draco hasn’t even had a chance to fail yet, so why would he already be punishing him?

It’d be a lie to say that I don’t still care about the boy, and I certainly don’t want him tortured by Voldemort. No one deserves that, really.

I watch the door intently, hoping Draco will walk through it so that I might breathe normally once more. He doesn’t arrive, but Hermione and Ron do. _Where is Harry?_ He, too, typically travels Hogwarts with his friends. Hermione smiles at me, and I offer her a small wave. Then she and Ron wander to the Gryffindor table.

Daphne, Astoria, Malcolm, and Grant take seats around me. “It’s good to see you, Charlotte, how was your holiday?” Daphne says.

“Extremely busy, thought it would never end, and yours?”

She smiles, her eyes lighting up. “They were great! We were traveling the whole time, mostly because my parents wanted me and Astoria away for a while because of You-Know-Who.”

“Can’t risk their precious little children,” Astoria adds with a grin.

I’m about to ask where they went when I see Draco finally enter the Great Hall behind a group of second-years, a smug grin on his face, and make his way to his posse, all of whom watch at him expectantly. Astoria follows my gaze, then looks back at me. “Things with him still bad?”

“What? No, we moved on from that a long time ago. I was just wondering, since when does he go anywhere without his followers at his heels?”

“He doesn’t,” Grant says.

We quiet down when a group of first years enter with McGonagall and that evil little Hat that put me in Slytherin rather than in any of the others Houses.

Harry still has not arrived, which is strange, really, because all of the students should be here by now. I glance up at the staff table. Hagrid is not here either, so perhaps Harry is with him. “Maybe Malfoy will finally grow up this year and stop having his goons around him all the time,” Malcolm says flatly. “It’d certainly do him some good.”

“Says the bloke who’s almost never alone,” Grant laughs.

Malcolm shrugs. “I won’t deny it. I like to be around people. I’m not ashamed of it. But I know how to fight my own battles, unlike that prick.”

“SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat calls out.

I halfheartedly clap as a boy makes his way to our table. Then I glance up at professors again, my gaze landing on Snape, whose head is turned to the side in a way that almost leads me to believe that he’s listening to something behind him. His eyes roam over the students, and when he sees me watching him, he gives me a rude look, gets up, and leaves the Great Hall. “Did you see that?” I ask them.

“See what?” Daphne says

“Snape just left.”

“I wonder—” She stops short when McGonagall calls, “Collins, Christopher.” Daphne cocks her head to the side and stares up at the stool and the Sorting Hat. “He could be your brother, Charlotte.”

I look over at the boy who is now on the stool, the Sorting Hat on his head. “I don’t see it.”

“How can you not see that?” Malcolm says. “Even I can see it, and Astoria always tells me how oblivious I am.”

The Collins boy sits there on the stool, his face steadily turning red at the Sorting Hat’s silence. “I mean, he has black hair, sure, and he’s pale, but other than that, there are no similarities.”

Astoria smiles. “Charlotte, he looks like a smaller version of you. Are you sure you don’t have a brother?”

“I’m positive.” Both of my parents were in Azkaban when this boy would have been born.

I look back at the young boy who is now wringing his hands together and watching his feet in horror. It’s been two minutes, and with each passing second, he seems to fidget more and more.

“Fingers crossed he’ll be a Hatstall,” Daphne says, now watching the Collins boy with deep interest. “I’ve never seen one before, and I’m running out of time to see it. Perhaps this is the year.”

“A Hatstall?”

“When it takes the Sorting Hat more than four minutes to put someone in their House,” Astoria explains.

“That would be the most be the most awkward four minutes of anyone’s life.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. So let’s hope it finally happens,” Malcolm says.

A few seconds later, the Sorting Hat announces, “SLYTHERIN!”

The Slytherins cheer for the boy as he walks over to our table.

Once all of the students are Sorted, normal chatter begins again, but I can’t bring myself to focus too much on what is being said around me. I’m still too busy watching all of the entrances for any sign of Snape. I want to know where he’s gone, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much that he has just left like this.

Luckily for me, not long after, probably just a few minutes, the doors to the Great Hall open, and in walk Snape with Harry, who wears his Muggle clothes and looks utterly mortified. Harry quickly separates from Snape and rushes to the Gryffindor table. I don’t watch him for more than just a few moments before my eyes find Snape again and follow him as he walks to the staff table.

But it seems that he’s making it a point not to meet my eyes. He’s the only one who could actually explain to me why he had to go fetch Harry, but I doubt he’ll do so. Unfortunately.

When the feast is over, Dumbledore gets to his feet—all of the talking and laughter silences out of respect for him—and takes the stand. “The very best of evenings to you!” He opens his arms wide as though to embrace the whole room, but this action is immediately followed by not-so-quiet murmuring that sweeps through the students. The headmaster seems to know that all of the sound has been aroused by his hand, for he says to all of us, much like he said to me just a short while ago, “Nothing to worry about.” He shakes his purple-and-gold sleeve to hide the injury. “Now…to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…”

I look back at Snape. I wonder if he knows what happened to Dumbledore. If he does, I’m sure he won’t tell me that either. I spent almost the entire holiday with him, and he never mentioned anything about Dumbledore’s hand, and I want to know why that is. Surely he knew about it, right? How could he not? I’m sure everyone in the Order knows about it. _What if Snape actually isn’t in the Order? What if he actually can’t be trusted?_ I narrow my eyes at him, as if that will actually answer my question of whether or not I should trust him. I suppose, regardless if he’s part of the Order or not, I have to trust him. He knows too much about my past not to. The Occlumency lessons have surely told him everything he needs to know about me by now.

“His hand looks as if it’s died,” Astoria says quietly.

Grant makes an odd noise. “He’s Dumbledore. Shouldn’t he of all wizards be able to fix his own hand?”

“There’re some curses that can’t be reversed, some injuries you can’t cure…some poisons without antidotes,” Daphne says. “Maybe he stumbled upon one…or was attacked.”

_Voldemort._

We turn our attention back to Dumbledore, who is still speaking. “…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.” Fred and George would be so proud, and I can’t wait to let Fred know.

“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of Houses as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.” I had forgotten that Lee Jordan was finished with his Hogwarts schooling. There will be no Weasley twins and no Lee this year. That thought suddenly makes me miss last year’s Umbridge and her reign of terror.

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year,” Dumbledore continues. “Professor Slughorn”—the bald man I spoke to before I went to see my mother stands to his feet—“is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master.”

The word “potions” echoes throughout the room.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore raises his voice over the students, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“No!” I hear Harry shout angrily.

Snape, the same look of triumph on his face as when he told me the news, waves his hand lazily to acknowledge the shouts coming from the Slytherin table. Had he not told me already and had I not spent the holidays at his house, I would be just as shocked as all the other are. Everyone down the Slytherin table chats excitedly about Snape achieving what he’s desired for so many years, while the other tables speak rather rudely about Snape achieving his goal. I’m rather neutral honestly. My feelings about it have dwindled by now.

My friends seem happy that Snape has finally gotten the DADA post. I imagine after years of watching their Head of House struggle in vain for that position it must feel nice to see him accomplish it.

Dumbledore clears his throat. “Now,” he says, successfully quieting the students, “as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” I don’t want to think about this. I try finding Draco, but he’s paying no attention to the headmaster. Instead, he’s levitating his fork as if this is the most boring thing he has been forced to endure in months. Although I don’t want to hear about Voldemort, I am at least showing Dumbledore the respect he deserves. Draco is prick, as I am realizing. But still, his life hangs in the balance this year. Perhaps he has the right to act nonchalant about it all, seeing that he’s met Voldemort.

I only half listen as Dumbledore explains how we must all realize how dangerous the present situation is (I don’t know who wouldn’t already know that, all things considered). He assures us that the fortifications around the castle are stronger than they have ever been (I wonder if it is the same type of fortifications that Snape used to trap me in the castle).

Draco almost drops his fork at this new information. Dumbledore tells us that we must obey all the rules put forth by the teachers, no matter how “irksome” we find them, one of the most important being that no one is allowed out of bed after hours. Well, I already know of one rule I will most likely be breaking many times in this coming year.

“But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!”

The usual deafening noise erupts when all of the students stand to leave the Great Hall and go to their dorms. “Come on,” Daphne says to me, taking my by the arm, “we’re going to hunt down that little first year—Christopher, I think?—and I’m going to prove to you just how much you truly look like him. No arguments.”

“Not a single one?”

“No.”

“But what if I say that I was planning on writing someone a letter? Can I use that as an excuse?”

She looks at me suspiciously. “And who will receive this letter?”

“Zoe and Fred.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Zoe got a place in Hogsmeade, did you know that?”

“Yeah, I visited her a few—” I stop short when I hear Draco somewhere behind me.

“Potter was spying on us,” he growls. How equally stupid and brave of him. “So I went back and taught him a lesson. Broke his nose. Froze him in place. Covered him with that Invisibility Cloak he loves so damn much. He was supposed to be carried back to King’s Cross. It’s a shame he was found.”

“It would’ve been nice to have a year without _Potter_ here,” Pansy says.

Draco and his group pass Daphne and me, their voices trailing off. “I guess that answers your question,” she says.

“What question?”

“Well, Snape must have left to go save Potter. Though I don’t know why he would have done that, considering just how much he seems to hate him. But I guess a professor couldn’t very well let a student be sent back to King’s Cross without at least _trying_ to stop it.”

So I guess that explains _why_ Snape had to leave to go save Harry, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that I saw Snape enter the Great Hall with Harry in the middle of the feast, instead choosing to shrug and make a noncommittal sound in response. Even though I now know why Snape went to get Harry, I have to wonder how he knew the boy was trapped. But I doubt if I ever really learn how Snape found out. He will most likely refuse to tell me solely because I want to know.

So really, I still don’t have my answer, but I can’t say that to Daphne when she seemed so proud of herself for figuring out that Snape left to retrieve Harry. “If you speak to that little boy without me present, I shall never forgive you,” she warns. “I want to see firsthand the moment you realize just how much the two of you look alike. Deal?”

“Deal.”

She releases my arm when we reach the common room, and the two of us walk over to the table where Malcolm and Grant and Astoria are sitting. “Draco seems in good spirits,” Grant says.

The four of us look over to the Malfoy boy who is by the fireplace with his followers. It’s odd that he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the mission he’s on for Voldemort. I thought he would be different. Then again, I guess it makes sense that he would act as normally as possible around the other Slytherins. He can’t let his reputation suffer, of course. That would be disgraceful.

Smiling broadly, Draco climbs onto the back of the sofa. He clears his throat loudly, all of the idle chatter around the room coming to a sudden and violent halt. “I think today’s events call for a celebration,” he announces. He nods at a blonde seventh-year girl I’ve never spoken to, and she waves her wand, small goblets appearing in the hands of each and every Slytherin in the common room. “For years, our Head of House has pined for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post here at Hogwarts”—as he says this, a bag floats down from the boys’ dormitory and into his arms—“and now he has achieved his goal! For the first time in years, we will have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!” He reaches into the bag and pulls out bottles of butterbeer. The same seventh-year girl waves her wand, and the bottles glide around the room, emptying themselves into each student’s goblet. “So, in honor of our Head of House, Professor Snape, and courtesy of my family, the Malfoys, let us enjoy some butterbeer together as the best House here at Hogwarts!”

Many of the Slytherins cheer with him and drink up their drinks without a second to thought to how odd Draco is acting compared to this time last year.

“It’s like he thinks he has something to prove,” Malcolm mutters. “How obnoxious.”

“We got free butterbeer, don’t knock it,” Grant says.

I frown. “He’s just trying to win over the new Slytherins. Can’t have them become ‘blood traitors’ like the lot of us.”

“Well, his new tactic seems to be working,” Grant says airily, motioning to a swarthy little boy whose dreadlocks reach his shoulders. The boy watches Draco with a look of adoration and awe.

“His father did just end up in Azkaban because he was a Death Eater for You-Know-Who, right?” Daphne points out. “Perhaps Malfoy has taken his father’s place and is trying to find willing recruits for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s army.”

“Either that or he just wants to flaunt his money,” Astoria says.

I’m not so sure I believe either of these scenarios. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever his reasons, I think it just makes him more of an arrogant prick.”

Surely Draco wouldn’t be trying to find recruits for Voldemort among the young students of Hogwarts. I watch him intently, and as if he can feel my eyes on him, he glances over. Our gazes lock, and I give him a small, disapproving shake of my head, to which he averts his eyes and sits down on the sofa, ignoring me completely as a group of first years amble toward him and his followers.

I leave the common room minutes after that.


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning, not feeling the least bit guilty about this decision, I head down to the Great Hall for breakfast without waiting for Daphne and the others. I’m one of the first Slytherins down here, beaten only by a group of four first-years, and I claim a seat nearly twenty chairs away from them.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. _It does not matter that time is running short_ , I tell myself, _I simply need to enjoy the time while I have it, I need to try learning everything that I can from Snape, I need to focus on my schooling and not my impending duty to Voldemort._

Someone sits down beside me, and I smile, opening my eyes, expecting it to be Daphne or one of the others, and am instantly disappointed when I find none other than Draco Malfoy sitting close to me.

“Charlotte,” he says blandly as a way of greeting.

“Draco,” I reply in the same tone he used. “Was there a reason for the spectacle last night?”

“How were your holidays?”

“Are you really over here to ask me how my holidays were? That’s so unlike you.” He must want to know where I was. Voldemort had expressly forbidden anyone beyond himself, Narcissa and Lucius, Snape, and Bellatrix knowing where I was, and they were only allowed to know because I was travelling back and forth from the manor to Spinner’s End. Draco should learn to keep to himself—it’s safer for him that way.

His face drops, and he says sadly, “No, I’m not here to talk about that.” I shift to face him more directly. He’s not sounded this upset since we were forced to break up. “I…I never wanted us to wind up hating each other, Charlotte. I really didn’t.”

“We have that uneasy agreement, so I wouldn’t really say we ‘hate’ each other.” I smile as best as I can. “Things could be much worse.”

“ _Stop joking_ ,” he hisses. “This is important. You’ve got to listen to me. Bad things are going to happen this year. I want you to be sure where your allegiances lie—I know you struggle with that—or things might just end badly for you.”

“I assure you, Draco,” I say, my eyes searching for an escape and landing on Daphne who is walking into the Great Hall without the others, “I’m going to be just fine. I have friends in high places.” I stand up and start toward Daphne, hoping I can use her as an excuse to get away from my cousin, but the blond-headed boy next to me jumps to his feet and grabs my arm. I glare at him, my nostrils flaring, but he does not release me.

“Listen,” he pleads, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” I jerk my arm free from him.

His voice full of desperation, he whispers, “Never refer to the Dark Lord as your friend, Charlotte. You don’t know what he’s truly capable of.”

“He’s not the friend I was speaking of, but I certainly do know what he’s capable of. Make no mistake about _that._ ”

Again I try to storm off, but Draco grabs me once more. “You realize you can’t leave now, right?” There’s a hint of mockery in his voice. “Schedules are still in the process of being made for each of the students. You’re stuck with me for at least another half-hour.” He smirks. “Now, why don’t you sit back down so we can talk like civil people?”

I scoff at him and lean in close to whisper, “I’m not going to be associated with anyone who willingly serves Voldemort.”

Draco clenches his jaw. “Then you’re in for a rough surprise, Charlotte. There are more followers of the Dark Lord around here than you might think.” Is he talking about Snape? And does he really think that I don’t know Snape is a Death Eater? And does he not suspect that Snape might be against Voldemort? Come to think of it, does anyone suspect Snape of actually being good? Most people just assume he’s bad. No one really assumes he’s good. Draco must believe my silence is me trying to piece together who might be a follower of Voldemort, for he smiles wickedly. “Have you spoken to your mother recently?”

This actually catches me off-guard. “What?”

“You know bloody well what. Bellatrix disappeared for almost an hour a week ago, when you arrived here for the start of the term.”

“Are you accusing your dear aunt of something?”

“If you—” he stops. “If you’ve found a way to get them into the castle—”

“Them? Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! If you’ve gotten her into the castle, you’d better save us both some trouble and just tell me how. You will not take the honor that’s due to me. Do I make myself plain?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And this time, I’m being genuinely honest.

Draco’s lip curls. “I have to do this to restore the Malfoy name. If you find a way to—” But he has to stop talking, because in that moment Daphne finally reaches the two of us and places his hand on my shoulder. “Greengrass.”

“Malfoy.” She glares at my cousin for a moment before saying to me, still not removing her eyes from Draco, “Come on, Charlotte, Astoria and the others sent me up here to find you and claim our spot at the table before the new first-years take it.” I walk off with her, leaving Draco scowling in our wake. “The two of you were arguing. Care to talk about it?”

“He’s still angry about the break up,” I lie.

The two of us sit down just a few seats away from the first year Slytherins. “Malfoy really needs to get over that. It’s almost been a year, yeah? And…and you’re still with Fred Weasley, right?”

“That’s another reason he’s angry about it, honestly. He doesn’t like that I’m with a ‘blood traitor’ now.” Daphne shakes her head angrily, but the subject of Draco dies quickly when Astoria, Malcolm, and Grant reach us. Halfway through breakfast, the delivery owls swoop in, two of them coming to me. One drops just a letter, the other drops a small package with a letter tied onto it.

“Already receiving gifts?” Astoria asks, looking at the owls’ deliveries. “I wonder who could have sent them.”

I grin at her. “I have my suspicions.”

Daphne pointedly looks away from the two of us and starts loading down her plate with food.

The five of us eat our food and chat lightly until Snape starts making his way down the table to hand out the new class schedules. Grant runs off to class the moment he gets his schedule, and Astoria waits for Malcolm because they’re in the same year and take the same classes. I’m left with Daphne while we wait for our new schedule of N.E.W.T. level classes.

When at last he reaches me, he asks, “You’ve not changed your mind about taking Potions then, Rodgers?”

“Not in the slightest, Professor.”

He hands me my new schedule without another word, and I’m too busy trying looking over my schedule to listen as he pieces together Daphne’s for her. I will be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy.

For now though, I have a free period, the first of many that I will have today. I wait for Snape to finalize her schedule before standing and grabbing up my letters and the package, as well as my schedule, and heading down to the Slytherin Dungeon.

“I have a free period right now,” I say as we leave the Great Hall. “What about you?”

“Herbology,” she sighs.

“I got a ‘D’ in Herbology,” I laugh.

She glances at me, her eyebrows raised. “We could’ve studied that harder together, you know. All you had to do was ask.”

“I don’t care much for that subject.” I smile at her surprised look before saying goodbye and heading to the dungeons.

I take a seat at one of the tables and begin opening my letters.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_Are you safe? Are you all right? The term should have started today, which means you should be safely away from Malfoy Manor. They didn’t hurt you, did they?_

_Love,  
Fred_

I smile at his worried letter and begin to write back to him, explaining that, yes, I am fine and that, yes, I am safely away from the manor and my mother and that, no, I was not harmed. I feel horrid lying to him like this, letting him believe that I was trapped in Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix, but it can’t really be helped if I am to keep Snape’s Death Eater status a secret.

I also tell Fred about Filch banning all products from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, anything to make myself feel a tiny bit better about lying to the one I love.

I ignore the guilt in my gut and open the next letter.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_He actually followed you around the castle? I can just imagine! You should have simply wandered about in an effort to annoy him! Marcus, I will be disappointed in you if you tell me that you didn’t do whatever it took to irritate him._

_I got Milo about a week after I moved to Hogsmeade. He’s very good company, actually. He doesn’t need much, so when I get home after a long day at work, it’s nice to just be quiet with him._

_You’ve inspired me. I am currently painting the daring rescue you described. I’ve sent you a rough sketch of it, it’s in the front cover of the book. Oh, by the way, I’ve sent you a book. You said you’ve never read Marcus Aurelius’_ Mediations _. Your own namesake! So I sent it, hoping to rectify this dreadful mistake. You should read it in all the spare time you’ll have this year. Speaking of, how much free time do you actually have? I had loads of it my sixth and seventh years._

Zoe goes on to explain just how great it’s been for her to be working at the Three Broomsticks. I smile as I read it, happy for her, but honestly a bit jealous too. She has a normal life with normal goals and is doing her best to achieve them. I, on the other hand, have only one goal, and it’s certainly not a normal goal: I just want to escape my fate of having Voldemort’s child.

I have to remind myself that it’s not Zoe’s fault I’m in my current predicament.

_Let me know when the Hogsmeade weekends are, and I can ask off those days._

_Sincerely,  
Zoe_

_P.S. “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” – Marcus Aurelius_

I turn my attention to the package wrapped in brown paper and rip it open, already expecting the Marcus Aurelius book. That’s not what I want to see right now. What I want to see right now is the drawing of her rescuing me. Just as Zoe said, the sketch is in the front cover, folded in half. I pull it out and gingerly peel it open. A laugh escapes me.

Zoe, wearing her Muggle clothes, is atop a hippogriff, a large drawn sword high in the air, her wand pointed at Snape who stands just in front of the doors to Hogwarts, a look of terror on his face. I am attempting to climb onto the back of her hippogriff, my wand aimed at the professor, who seems unsure which of us poses the worse threat.

I can just imagine Snape’s face if he were to see this. He would probably burn it. With that in mind, I carry it up to my bed and place it safely in my trunk. Then I rush off to the Owlery to send the letters back to Zoe and Fred.

I wait by the lake until it is time for my first class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Towards the end of the holidays when I stopped trying to run away and stopped being difficult to be around in general, Snape became much more agreeable, but I know he would never show favoritism or kindness toward me in class, so I’m hoping for him to be neutral toward me. When I reach the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, a line of students already wait for his arrival, and as I take my place in the large group of students, I hear Hermione exclaim to Ron and Harry, “We got so much homework for Runes. A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I’ve got to read these by Wednesday!” I’m slightly happy I did not do well enough of the Study of Ancient Runes O.W.L.

“Shame,” Ron yawns.

“You wait,” she all but growls back at him. “I bet Snape gives us loads.”

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Snape opens the door and commands us all inside. It seems the he’s already put his own personal flare to the room. Which means the classroom is just as dark as Spinner’s End: the curtains drawn over the windows, leaving just candles to light the whole space. Horrid and gruesome deaths depicted in paintings around the room give a warning to each of the students to take this class seriously. Regardless of how gloomy this room is compared to when Umbridge controlled it, my spirits are oddly high. I’m not dreading this class like so many of the other students who are struggling to hide their feelings about Snape taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.

“I have not asked you to take out your books,” Snape says from the back of the classroom as he closes the door and walks through the aisle to the back of his desk. I see Hermione quickly hide hers in her bag and stow it under her chair. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.” He scans the room with his black eyes. “You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe.” I’ve only had one, and no matter what anyone says, Snape is far superior to her.

“Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced.”

Snape moves to the edge of the room. He’s relatively close to me, so I don’t have to strain to hear him or crane my neck to see him like many of the others in the back are doing. “The Dark Arts,” he says softly, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before.” This analogy does not make me feel any better about defying Voldemort, the greatest Dark Wizard of all time. “You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.” If Snape is not careful, people are going to believe that he loves the Dark Arts, that he doesn’t simply respect them. I learnt over the holiday what he sounds like when he speaks of something or someone he highly respects, but if I hadn’t spent so much time with him, even I would think he speaks too lovingly about the Dark Arts.

The one time I ever heard him speak lovingly about anything had been a mistake during our Occlumency lessons. I had seen him talking to that redheaded girl who had been Sorted into Gryffindor while he had been Sorted into Slytherin. Other than that one time, I have never heard him use such a tone of voice.

Daphne sits beside me, watching Snape with a sort of rapt attention that I’m sure he must just love. It probably makes him feel important.

“Your defenses,” Snape continues, slightly louder now, “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures”—he indicates a few that make me shudder—“give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse”—I’d say the painting of the shrieking witch captures the essence of a person in agony, but it certainly doesn’t begin to explain the pain that comes from that particular curse—“feel the Dementor’s Kiss”—the picture shows a blank-eyed man huddled against a wall sends a chill down my spine; my parents were in danger of that for so many years in Azkaban—“or provoke the aggression of the Inferius”—that painting is just a bloody mass upon the ground.

“Has an Inferius been seen then?” a girl asks. “Is it definite, is he using them?”

“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past, which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again.” The last thing I want to think about is Voldemort using the undead in his army. “Now”—Snape makes his way to his desk, his robes billowing behind him—“you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?” I feel like I’m back in his basement-dungeon again.

Hermione’s hand shoots into the air. His eyes sweep over the classroom, searching for anyone to call on other than Hermione, and I meet his gaze. He knows I know the answer (I mean, _he_ taught me so of course he knows I know the answer), and his eyes rest on mine for a second. When I don’t raise my hand, he curtly says, “Very well—Miss Granger?”

“Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you’re about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage.”

“An answer copied almost word for word from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six_ , but correct in its essentials,” Snape says airily. Draco sniggers, and though I can’t see him, I have no doubt that it is he who made the noise. I don’t know why this irritates me much more than it once did, but I suddenly feel very defensive of Hermione and want to silence Draco. “Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some”—his eyes linger somewhere behind me in the general direction I know Harry to be sitting—“lack.”

I can’t stop the pride that surges in me. Despite that he was subtly attacking Harry, I can’t help but feel a sense of success because of my ability of nonverbal spells.

“You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other _without speaking_. The other will attempt to repel the jinx _in equal silence_. Carry on.”

As I walk past Snape’s desk, I hear him murmur to me, “The holiday lessons never happened. You are as novice as the rest.” I nod without looking at him.

I pair up with Daphne, her eyes bulging with the intensity of her concentration, and I try not to laugh at the facial expressions she makes. I’m ready, just in case she manages to succeed, though I doubt it will happen this soon.

Ten minutes into the lesson, Hermione manages to repel Neville’s jinx, and a certain resentfulness and jealousy flare in me. That took me forever to learn. It also took an incredible amount of emotion that caused a breakdown. She makes it all look so easy.

“Pathetic, Weasley,” I hear Snape say a short while later. I turn to see him glaring at Ron and Harry. “Here—let me show you—”

He turns his wand on Harry, but the boy shouts, “ _Protego!”_

Harry’s Shield Charm is so strong that it knocks Snape off-balance and causes him to stumble against a desk. The whole class turns to watch as the professor rights himself, scowling. “Do you remember me telling you we are practicing _nonverbal_ spells, Potter?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Snape corrects.

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

Ron, Seamus, and Dean grin at Harry, all safely hidden from Snape’s line of sight. Many students gasp, Hermione included. My mouth drops open, and I can’t close it back as I watch everything unfold. If Snape wasn’t a professor, I’m sure he would attack Harry. But he _is_ a professor and Harry _is_ his student, so he punishes the way a professor does. “Detention, Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even _‘the Chosen One.’_ ”

I mean, he’s let me say a good deal more to him than I would have thought possible, but I’m also not the son of the man who assaulted him, which probably plays into this a good deal.

I look over and see Daphne smiling at the scene, and it makes me smile as well.

It actually feels good to be back at Hogwarts. With my friends. It’s already different than last year, of course, and I miss Fred and Zoe, but it feels good to be here.

Later that day, I find Harry speaking with Ron and Hermione, as usual. Hermione seems rather upset with Harry, probably over what happened in DADA class, but I can’t be sure. Someone hands him a parchment, and as he’s tucking it into his robes, the three of them chattering excitedly over whatever the paper must have said. The moment I get close enough, Harry immediately asks, “Are you still sure that Snape isn’t a Death Eater? Has _nothing_ changed? Did you see him at the meetings over the holidays? Has Voldemort mentioned his name?”

I gape, not having been prepared for any kind of interrogation. “I…” I’m so caught off guard that I can't find any words.

“What about Malfoy?” he asks next. _Why is he bombarding me with questions?_ “What is he doing for Voldemort? Do you know? What’s he planning?”

I stare at him for a second while all of his questions process in my mind. “Um…no, Snape is not a Death Eater…” A lot has changed, so I just won’t answer that question. “I didn’t see him in any of the meetings.” Because I wasn’t there, of course, but still. I ignore the question of Voldemort mentioning his name. “I don’t know about Draco. If he’s doing something, I would like to know as well.”

This isn’t the answer Harry wanted. “Let me know if something changes,” he says. Then he leaves with Ron and Hermione, who seem as equally confused about Harry’s string of questions as I am. They’re going to Potions, I believe, which I didn’t take since I won’t need it and don’t like it, so I do not follow them. Instead, I slowly make my way to Snape’s office.


	20. Chapter 20

By the time I’ve reached Snape’s office, he’s returned, or it seems that way, at least, from the light shining under the door. I knock, only entering when he gives me permission. He stares at me for a short second before saying, “The headmaster said you would be coming by today.”

“For the Occlumency lessons, yes, because without those I will not be able to join the Order.”

He clenches his teeth. “What’s your class schedule? Perhaps we can squeeze in more than one lesson per day.”

I pause. _Does he not realize that I will have to study for all of my classes so I can pass and continue this façade of “Charlotte Rodgers, a normal Hogwarts student”?_ “Mondays and Wednesdays I have a free period, Defense Against the Dark Arts with you, a free period, lunch, Arithmancy, then I’m free for the rest of the day. Tuesdays and Fridays I have a free period, Transfiguration, a free period, lunch, Charms, then nothing. I have nothing on Thursdays.”

“And you don’t believe you’ll change your mind about Potions?”

I laugh, only stopping a few moments later when I realize that he is not laughing with me. “You’re serious?” He doesn’t reply, his face solemn. “I hated Potions, no offense to you, Professor. I don’t have the skill or the passion for it.” I smile. “Besides, I figure that if I need to make a potion, I could come to you for help.”

“Don’t.”

“Then I’ll find someone else,” I say quickly.

“We’ll start and end each day with your lessons.”

It only takes a second to realize what this means. “Do you find some kind of twisted joy in not letting me sleep, Professor? It’s bad enough that you woke me up at the crack of dawn over the holidays, but now you’re doing so during school as well?”

“Do you find some kind of twisted joy in invading my life not only during the school year but during the holidays as well?”

I groan. “Point taken.” Snape goes back to writing something on his desk, expecting me to leave after that, I guess, but I can’t leave right now. So I go and sit down in the seat in front of him. After just a breath, he looks up at me. “I…I need to…to ask you something, Professor.”

He sets his quill down, and I force myself to look into his black eyes. “How…how do face…Vol—the Dark Lord—knowing that you must conceal the truth? Knowing that if he found out that you’re truly Dumbledore’s man he would kill you? Knowing that each time you are called to him could be the last thing you ever do?”

Snape leans forward in his chair but doesn’t remove his eyes from mine, and I expect him to deny being Dumbledore’s man, but he doesn’t. “Not without difficulty,” comes his soft, slow answer, “but there are some things in this life that are more important than worrying about personal danger.”

“Such as?” I ask in the same slow and quiet tone he’s speaking in.

The professor leans back in his seat. He swallows. “There are some things, Charlotte, that are unwise to ask.” He looks away from me. “That is one of them.”

We’re silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He nods, which I take as an acceptance of my apology. Though he’s not looking at me, I can’t tear my eyes away from his. He has that same gaze that he had when I confided in him over my pain of Draco last Christmas. I feel as if I’m invading his privacy, like I’m peering into a side of Severus Snape that I’m not supposed to see. He jerks back to the present. “Is that it, then?”

“Yes, sir.” Then I stand and make my way to the door. I need to get out of here.

“Miss Rodgers,” the professor says. I turn around. He seems to be debating something, and after a short moment, he continues, “If you do, in fact, find yourself in desperate need of a potion, you may come to my office, and I will do my best to assist you.”

“Thank you, sir.” I turn back to the door, hiding my smile, unsure why he would have agreed to something like that, and open it.

“Before curfew tonight, Rodgers,” he calls in his typically cold voice. “Don’t forget.”

“Yes, Professor.” I close the door and go to the rather empty Slytherin common room, only a few sixth and seventh years in here taking up space. With a quiet sigh, I sit down in an armchair and take out my wand. The least I can do with this free time is continue practicing Conjuration. To start with, I attempt to Conjure a quill again, as a sort of warm-up. I vanish the it as soon as it materializes.

My next object to attempt Conjuring is a snuffbox. It only takes three attempts before one appears, and though it is half the size I was hoping it would be, it’s progress. I sit there practicing but not making much more progress until lunch rolls around, when I go to the Great Hall and meet back up with the few Slytherins I call my friends. “You didn’t tell me how great it’d be to have so many free periods, Grant,” I say to him when the food arrives.

“Better for everyone to figure it out for themselves is my take on it,” he says as he fills his plate up with food.

“If you could not talk about how wonderful your schedules are in front of us,” Malcolm says, motioning at himself and Astoria who sits across from him, “we’d greatly appreciate it.”

A short while later I take a seat beside Hermione in Arithmancy. “I hope there isn’t too much homework for this class tonight,” she says conversationally, only a tiny bit of strain in her voice. “I’ve already got loads of it for Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why aren’t you Study of Ancient Runes this year?”

“Didn’t get an ‘E’ on the O.W.L. I imagine you got ‘Outstanding’ on all of yours?”

“All but Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she sighs. “I got an ‘Exceeds Expectations.’ And you? How’d you do?”

“Really well in Transfiguration and Charms, good in Defense Against the Dark Arts thanks to Harry. Good enough to continue Arithmancy. I chose not to continue Potions.”

“Even though Snape’s no longer the professor?”

I shrug. “It never interested me much, honestly.”

She doesn’t have a chance to comment, for the professor enters, silencing our conversation.

Some hours later, after Arithmancy and dinner, I find myself at a table in the common room with Daphne, Astoria, Malcolm, and Grant in the Slytherin Dungeon. Sixth-years all around the common room are practicing their nonverbal spells, but seeing as I already know how to do those ( _thanks to Snape_ , I remind myself), I don’t have to waste my time. Apparently nonverbal magic is an important part of a sixth-year’s education here at Hogwarts because it is seen as vital to the real world. I don’t know though, I’ve done pretty well for myself without having known them, however much of an advantage I must admit they are.

“Why do the two of _you_ not have homework?” Astoria bitterly asks Daphne and me. Right now each of the three others are feverishly working away, writing essays, reading course materials.

“I have quite a few breaks during the day.”

“And though I don’t have as many as Charlotte does, I have a few. We do our homework together.”

She looks disgusted with us, a small smile breaking her evil glare, before going back to her essay. Daphne and I grin at one another. Then she cracks open a book to read while the others do their homework.

I don’t necessarily feel like reading, so as a form of entertainment for myself, I discreetly cast nonverbal spells at some of the first and second years. (Of course none of the spells are painful or deadly.) I do this for nearly half an hour before my eyes land on the Collins boy who, according to those around me, could be related to me. He looks like he could use some cheering up, so, while he’s sitting by the fire, I cast the Babbling Curse at the little girl next to him, who I believe to be one of students who seemed angry with Zoe last year for speaking out against Draco. She looks up at him and begins chattering away. I force myself to look away, smirking, but my eyes are soon drawn back to the duo by the fire.

The boy tries fruitlessly to interrupt her, his face becoming red, his brow furrowing. He tries to quiet her for a few more minutes before pulling out his wand, and a small panic grips me. Perhaps I should not have cast the curse on her. But instead of hexing the girl, he silences her, leaving her talking quickly without making any sound.

Laughing quietly at this turn of events, I look away, Conjure a quill, and grab what appears to be Astoria’s finished essay. I begin acting as if I’m writing, because I don’t want anyone to know that it is I who has been disrupting everyone’s peace this evening.

A tap on my shoulder brings my attention away from my fake essay. The boy from the fire takes a seat next to me. A little piece of me hates that I must agree with them. This boy has eyes a similar blue to mine—though his are darker than my icy blue, I begrudgingly admit that they resemble mine—and the same jet black hair as I do, though his is perfectly groomed without a single strand out of place, covering his ears and hand-brushed out of his eyes. “Hi,” I say tentatively. He doesn’t say anything, and I glance over at Daphne who has set her book down to watch us with a look on her face that clearly says she is far too amused by this. Even Astoria, Malcolm, and Grant have stopped doing whatever it is that they had been doing just a moment before. I glower at them before turning back to the boy and offering my hand. “I’m Charlotte Rodgers.”

He doesn’t accept my gesture. “Well, Charlotte Rodgers,” he says more diplomatically than I would have thought possible for someone so young and admittedly sort of adorable, “I would appreciate it if you could take the Babbling Curse off that poor girl by the fire.” He points back to my latest victim who is trying desperately to get someone to help her, but all of those above fourth year, who would know how to help her, are either ignoring her completely or seem confused as to why she is acting this way and seem too busy to try figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t hear any babbling.”

“Because I silenced her.”

I pause for a moment. “And how is that a first-year such as yourself managed to silence her?”

He smiles at me, flashing his straight white teeth, his little dimples giving him an aspect of pure innocence that kind of disgusts me. He’s going to get away with so much shit someday. “I have three younger siblings and an older sister—Helena. She taught me how to silence the others a few years back. It was our way of…diffusing the situation when they were threatening to get us into trouble.” He laughs. “My father taught her when I was young and only wanted to annoy her.” His laughter stops abruptly. “Wait!” he adds quickly. “My dad’s not a bully! I realize that’s how that could have sounded. He didn’t use it for punishment or anything!”

“I didn’t take it as him being a bully. Who are you?”

He offers me his hand this time. “I’m Christopher Collins.”

I accept his handshake. “Well, Christopher Collins,” I say, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, Malcolm Baddock, and Grant Sparkford.”

“Pleasure,” he says to them airily. His blue eyes turn back to me. “But they’re not the ones I came over here to speak with.”

“Oh?” I ask with a smile.

“The Babbling Curse, Charlotte.”

“Well,” I say in the same voice he used when he first began speaking with me, “how do you know it was I who put the Babbling Curse on that poor girl? This room is full of others who no doubt know how to cast that particular spell.”

“I saw you flick your wand.”

“But I didn’t say anything.” Why I’m arguing with an eleven-year-old when I know perfectly well that he’s right, I’ll probably never know.

He thinks for a moment. “You’re right, but I heard that nonverbal spells are taught to sixth-years. You’re a sixth-year, right? You have classes with Draco Malfoy.”

“I’ve only had one class where nonverbal spells were practiced.”

“That means virtually nothing. Besides, I saw your reaction when I silenced her. I’ve been watching you for the past half hour.” _Why has he been watching me?_ I narrow my eyes at him, deciding that I might want to keep an eye on this kid in the event that he’s one of the people Draco warned me about. I doubt the Dark Lord would use a child this young, but maybe he’s from a family of Voldemort sympathizers and is keeping track of me on behalf of Draco. “Every time something strange or odd or out of place has happened, you have flicked your wand.”

I sigh. “All right then, I admit it. Everything that’s been going on has been me. You caught me. You can rat me out if you’d like.”

He laughs again. “I don’t want to do that! I wouldn’t have said anything had that girl not started talking to _me._ I don’t care how many others you mess with. In fact, it was rather entertaining. I wouldn’t mind if you continued. I just feel sorry for her.” We both look back over at the girl who is sitting in front of the fire, rocking back and forth, her face screwed up as if she is about to start crying.

“I guess it has gone on long enough, hasn’t it?” He nods. I remove the curse from her, and she yelps, then runs from the room. I look back at Christopher. “Now you’ve gone and made me feel guilty.”

He pats my arm. “It’ll be okay, Charlotte. Your conscience is growing. That’s good. Let it happen.”

I smile at him, ignoring the quiet chuckling coming from those at my table. “Shut up.”

His brow furrows. “Could you teach me some nonverbal spells?”

“It’s more difficult than it looks.”

“You learned it one lesson, so it can’t be too hard.”

“It took me…an incredibly rough couple of weeks—almost the entire holiday to learn it, actually.”

“You actually practice over the holidays? You don’t seem like that type of student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. What classes are you in?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy.”

“N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration with McGonagall?”

“Is there another Transfiguration professor?”

“I guess you’re right.” He stands up and pushes the chair back into place. “I’ll be expecting to meet you by the Black Lake every Saturday so you can tutor me in Transfiguration.” He starts walking off.

“Wait, what?” I call after him.

He spins around. “Was I not clear?” I’m taken aback. This kid is _actually_ trying to order me around. “I need good grades. You’re a sixth-year. You should be willing to help out younger students.” He quickly retreats to his dormitory, leaving me sitting there without another word. Have I _actually_ just been bested by a first-year?

It takes a moment before I turn back to the three others at my table. Astoria’s mouth is open but smiling at the same time. Malcolm and Grant still look insufferably smug. Daphne is the first to speak, “That was so much better than I thought it’d be!”

“What was?”

“You meeting the boy who could very easily be your brother, of course,” she says. “I thought it’d be a simple greeting done in passing, after which you would admit he looks like you. But this…” She starts to laugh.

“So you’re ready to admit that he looks like you, then?” Astoria asks me.

“I…” I look away from them and take out my pocket watch. There’s an hour until curfew. “What a shame, I really must be going.”

“Going where?” Grant laughs. “You’ll have to answer us eventually!”

“Not right now, I don’t. Right now, I have private lessons I must attend.” I give them an exaggerated bow before ducking out of the common room and going to Snape’s office.

I knock, entering only when he gives me permission. “Evening, Professor.”

“Evening, Rodgers. Have a seat.” I do just that and watch him curiously. “On many occasions, you have successfully kept me from your mind, shown me only what you want to show me, and convinced me that your false memories were true.”

“Is this your way of congratulating me? Because I haven’t been able to do two of those three things consistently.”

He does not find me amusing and continues as if I had not spoken at all. “You still have much to learn about Occlumency. You perform Occlumency well enough—almost well enough—when awake and aware of the attack. However, the Dark Lord is capable of invading the mind while his victim sleeps. You must learn to resist even this type of attack, or you will be susceptible to the Dark Lord when you’re at your most vulnerable. You must learn to keep him out of even your dreams. In learning this, you will grow more accustomed to manipulating all of your thoughts. The farther we continue down the path of Occlumency, the easier all of it will become for you.”

“So you want me to keep you out of my mind while I sleep?” He nods. “And you expect me to fall asleep on command? Just like that?”

“I do not believe that is physically possible. That being said, I will put you into a bewitched sleep. You must keep me out of your thoughts while you are under the spell.”

“Okay, so if I start to learn how to keep you out of my mind or manipulate my thoughts while I’m sleeping, I’ll get better doing it while I’m awake?”

“Yes.

“Okay.”

“Ready?” I nod, and he casts the spell at me.

 _I am sitting in Zoe’s apartment in Hogsmeade._ He doesn’t need to know what all I’ve told her.

 _“He’s loyal to You-Know-Who. Why else would he agree to help complete You-Know-Who’s plans?” she asks._ No, no, no, he can't see this conversation. He can’t know that I told her about the Unbreakable Vow.

_“But he’s teaching me Occlumency to fight against Voldemort. He wouldn’t do that if he was loyal to him.”_

_She considers this for a moment. “Okay, say he is against You-Know-Who, are you sure you can trust him?”_

_“He’s against Voldemort and is helping me learn to resist Voldemort. Of course I trust him.”_ Well, this is uncomfortable. I’d rather him not know that I talk about him when he isn’t around.

The scene shifts.

_“Mum,” I greet Bellatrix, rushing to her and throwing my arms around her._

_“Aurelia,” she says happily. “I hope Snape has been treating you kindly.”_

_“As kindly as Severus Snape can treat someone, I suppose.”_

_We sit down together on the sofa in her room. “Has something happened to you?”_

_I shake my head. “No, no, it’s just…I wanted to see you.”_

_“So he’s not mistreating you in any way?”_

_“No, not at all.” I reach over and take her hand. She inhales sharply._

_Snape appears behind her. “These sorts of memories must be stopped.”_

I try to expel him from my thoughts, but I can’t. I realize what he’s doing, but I simply cannot get him out of my mind.

_“I just…I realized that I never said…I mean, I want to say…when we met at my grave…I never got to say…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you either.”_

_“You won’t,” she assures me, cupping my cheek with her free hand. “You won’t lose me, Aurelia.”_

_“Charlotte!” Snape snaps at me. “Do something!”_

_I close my eyes and rest my head in her palm before reaching up and taking that hand in mine as well. “I’m so scared, Mum. If someone is going to die this year…where will that leave me? Will I be in danger? Will…will you be in danger?”_

_“Aurelia—”_

_“It’s just…I know we haven’t really gotten along that well, but I mean, I so recently got my mother back, and I don’t think I can face—”_

_“You won’t!”_

I drag him out of that memory, but I can’t get him out of my mind completely.

 _I’m sitting on bed opening a copy of Marcus Aurelius’s_ Meditations _. I take out the sketch Zoe had drawn._

No, he can’t see this either. He’ll want to destroy it!

_I look down at the sketch in my hands._

_Zoe, wearing her Muggle clothes, is atop a hippogriff, a large drawn sword high in the air, her wand pointed at Snape who stands just in front of the doors to Snape, a look of terror on his face. I am attempting to climb onto another hippogriff, my wand aimed at the professor, who seems unsure which of us poses the worse threat._

_Snape’s hand rests on my shoulder. “You must learn to keep me out of your mind.”_

_“I’m trying!” the memory me shouts._

_“Try harder.”_

Something yanks me awake. Snape watches me, his lip curled. “That was abysmal.”

“I’m trying!”

He swallows once, then frowns, his eyes angry in a way I haven’t seen in a few weeks. “Did I not specifically tell you to stay away from Bellatrix?”

“She’s my mother.”

“She’s a Death—”

“ _She’s my mother._ ”

We glower at one another for nearly a minute before I say, “It’s nearly curfew.”

I stand to my feet, walk to the door, and wrench it open. Before I step out of his office, I hear him say, “Don’t trust her, Rodgers.”


	21. Chapter 21

After another failed lesson with Snape, I’m sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast, Astoria and Daphne next to me, Malcolm and Grant across from us, but I can’t focus on anything they’re saying. And no, that’s not because each of them is still trying to get me to admit that Christopher Collins resembles me, which at this point I’m mainly refusing to do out of pride.

No, I can’t focus on them because my eyes keep finding Draco, who seems different somehow.

I have just managed to steel my nerves, now planning to go speak with Harry, when someone shouts my name, and though I know I should not surrender my attention, I do, and I find Christopher Collins waving at me as he and three other first-years approach me. “This is perfect,” Daphne whispers excitedly.

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking,” I say.

She just smiles sweetly back at me. “Very well.”

“Charlotte,” he says when he finally comes to a stop in front of me, “for a moment there, I thought you were going to ignore me.”

“Why would I do that?” I ask, my eyes darting over to the Gryffindor table where I wish I could instead be speaking with Harry right now.

Christopher’s gaze follows mine. “Do you know them? Harry Potter and his friends?”

I look back at the four students in front of me. “Somewhat. I wouldn’t consider them close. Why?”

“I wanted to meet him. He’s the Chosen One or something, right? The one who can bring down You-Know-Who?”

Now it makes sense. That’s why the kid is trying to get me to tutor him. He wants to meet Harry and figures I know Harry because we’re in the same year. “I’m afraid I’m not the one who would be able to introduce you. I don’t know them that well, honestly.”

“That’s a shame.” His voice is quiet. I take this opportunity to look back at the Greengrass sisters with wide, pleading eyes.

“Charlotte, where are your manners?” Astoria asks. I could hit almost hit her right now. She directs her attention to the three other first-years timidly standing behind Christopher. “I’m Astoria. This is Daphne, Malcolm, Grant, and Charlotte.”

A brown-eyed girl with frizzy blonde hair smiles at her and offers her an awkward wave. “I’m Ella Burns. Sorry Christopher didn’t introduce us.” The boy clears his throat and looks down at his feet. “This is Julia Mitchells”—a girl with pretty tan skin shyly smiles a smile that reminds me too much of Zoe—“and Jacob Butler”—the swarthy boy with dreadlocks to his shoulders who seemed awestruck by Draco giving away butterbeer grins at me.

The boy called Jacob speaks up, his eyes on me, “Are you the one who’ll be tutoring us in Transfiguration?”

My mouth falls open, my eyes moving to Christopher, but before either of us has a chance to reply, Daphne pipes up with, “Yes, she is.”

With a short breath of relief, Christopher says, “I hope you don’t mind a few more for our lessons.”

“Of course she doesn’t!” Astoria says, smiling too broadly for my liking.

“Good, because—”

“I never even agreed to tutor _you_!”

“Sure you did,” Christopher says. “Remember—it was last night—I said something about it, and you didn’t say no.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN—” I take a breath and lower my voice. “That doesn’t mean I agreed. You walked off before I could answer.”

“Oh.” Then he looks at his friends. “I’m sorry…”

“But Christopher told us that you were different than the others!” Ella says. “He told us that you were cool, that you wouldn’t mind helping us! None of the N.E.W.T. level students will even listen to us, they say they’re too busy.”

I groan. I can’t deal with these children. I’ve enough on my plate at the moment, what with Voldemort’s plan for me approaching and my Occlumency lessons and my N.E.W.T. level classes, but before I can say this, Grant says, “Hey now, not all of us N.E.W.T. level students are that heartless.”

“Then will you help us?” she asks him.

He laughs. “I’m complete rubbish at Transfiguration. I hardly got an ‘Acceptable’ on that O.W.L. But Charlotte here is already learning to Conjure things, aren’t you, Charlotte?”

“ _Sparkford_.”

“Just bragging on your accomplishments is all. Come on, Malcolm, I left my Potions book in the dorm.” The two of them get up and walk away, turning back at the door to the Great Hall and laughing once more.

“Please,” Ella whispers, “we need help. None of us are any good at Transfiguration.”

“Why don’t you go to McGonagall? She’s the professor. And I’m positive she wouldn’t mind helping you. Besides, you just started the term yesterday, so how can you possibly know that you’re not good at it?”

Christopher’s face becomes serious. “Because we couldn’t really even understand her when she was just trying to explain what Transfiguration is. And do you really think the other Slytherins would appreciate us going to the Head of Gryffindor House for help?”

I sigh. “Does it really matter what the Slytherins think? I went to McGonagall for help many times last year and—”

Astoria quickly says, “Many of the Slytherins who know that are not your biggest fans.”

“That’s not why—”

“Do you really want these kids to suffer the same fate as you? For seven years?” If looks could kill, she would be dead three times over.

“Yeah!” Ella says. “We’ve got seven more years here at Hogwarts”—I don’t have the heart to tell her that with Voldemort gaining power that might not be entirely true—“and we’ll be the ones who have to deal with all of them for the remainder of our schooling.”

“If the other Slytherins dislike people who go to McGonagall for help, then they already dislike me. Being around me will make my bad reputation rub off on you. So you might as well go to McGonagall.”

“But there’s kind of a buffer if it’s you because you’re not as bad as McGonagall—in their minds. You’re bad, but not _that_ bad,” Daphne says with an obnoxious wink.

I glance at Julia, whose eyes are down, then look back to the other three. “What makes you think I’m any different than the other Slytherins? I mean—come on, Christopher—the first time you ever spoke to me was when I was hitting unsuspecting young students with spells for my own entertainment. Does that sound like the personality of someone who wants to help four first years with their studies?”

“It sounds like someone who has too much time on their hands to me,” Jacob says.

Astoria’s laughter nearly bursts my eardrum. Then she whispers to me, “Were you not the one who, just yesterday, was talking about how much free time you had this year?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and huff, then quickly pull my hand away and look at it like it’s a foreign object. Snape does that same thing when he’s frustrated with _me_. This must be what he feels like when _I_ annoy _him_. If that’s true, I’ve got some serious apologizing to do. “I…there’s a lot going on in my life…I don’t think—”

“A lot in your life?” Jacob asks. “Like what? Hitting innocent people with jinxes for your own personal entertainment?”

My eyes flare at him. “Jacob!” Christopher exclaims angrily.

“What? I’m just calling it like it is.”

I grimace at Jacob, my eyes full of hot anger, but he does not back down. “My life has been on course for tragedy since I was younger than you are now. So, if you’ll please excuse me for trying to add a bit of joy to my life. And if that little bit of joy involves disturbing unsuspecting students, then so be it.”

All of the four first years are silent for a few minutes. I look between each of them one last time, only the little girl named Julia not meeting my eyes, before looking away and grabbing a piece of toast and angrily ripping off a bite. “Let’s go,” Jacob says, “she’s no better than the rest. She’s arrogant and full of herself, just like the others. They think too highly of themselves to help the likes of us, never mind the fact that they were once in our shoes.” _I was_ never _in their shoes._

“Jacob, wait!” Christopher calls after his friend. His hand grabs my shoulder, and he looks at me pleadingly. “He didn’t mean it, Charlotte. We really do need your help. Please forgive him. Please help us.”

I close my eyes. They’ll never understand, and even if they would understand, I can’t tell them. I’m about to say as much when a small voice says, “He didn’t mean it, Miss Rodgers.” My eyes jerk open without my full consent. Julia is speaking for the first time. “Please help us.” Her dark eyes are wide and almost fearful. Something about the look on her face strikes me as very Zoe-esque mixed with something part of me does not want to acknowledge.

“Fine,” I grumble. “Every Saturday after lunch, down by the lake.” I would have denied helping them had it not been for that little shy girl. I meet her eyes. “Call me ‘Charlotte,’ not ‘Miss Rodgers.’ I’m not really that old.” I turn to Daphne. “And you’ll be joining us.”

“Every week?”

“Every week. You’re in McGonagall’s N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration class with me, so you’re going to be there.” My eyes land on Astoria. “And you’re coming too. You can work on your homework down there.”

I look back to the four first-years. They each smile nervously before wandering off. I push my plate aside and slam my head into the table. Damn those stupid kids. I can’t deal with this. I shake my head. _Why did I agree to this?_ Is there really a need to ask? Aside from Julia reminding me of Zoe, they remind me of some of those poor children in the orphanage, the ones who were scared of going to Mrs. Stoico for help, the ones who came to me for help even though I was not more than a year older than they were.

Daphne laughs quietly for a second. “Charlotte—”

“Not a word, Greengrass,” I mutter, not bothering to lift my head from the table. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

“I’m on whatever side stops the first-years from becoming prejudiced little bastards like so many of the Slytherins our age. If we can turn just those four away from Malfoy, I will consider us to be a success.”

“Ugh, fine, I guess you have a point.” Owls stream into the Great Hall, dropping letters and packages on the tables. Two owls swoop down to me, one dropping a letter and the other dropping both a package and a letter in front of me, and after stuffing them into my robes, I stand to my feet. “But I’m still not speaking to either of you right now.” They both laugh as I walk away.

I glance at the Gryffindor table before I leave the Great Hall and decide that I might as well get this over with, I guess. So I walk over to the Golden Trio and sit down with them at the Gryffindor table, all of them now looking just as confused as I feel. “Charlotte?” Hermione asks.

“Hello.”

“It’s probably not a good idea for a Slytherin to be at the Gryffindor table,” Ron says between his bites of toast.

“You’re right, of course, but I need to speak with Harry.” Then I meet Harry’s bright green eyes. “About Draco.”

Harry immediately perks up. “Have you learned something?”

I shake my head. “Why do you think he’s up to something?”

“I just know.”

“Harry—”

“No, Hermione. I know what I saw.”

“None of us know what we saw,” she counters. “We can’t be sure what he was doing.”

“What happened?” I ask them.

“Why do you need to know?” Ron asks.

I don’t look away from Harry. “I need to know.” He watches me carefully. “I need to know.”

He pauses for a moment. “We saw him going into Borgin and Burkes—”

“Harry,” Ron says, “how do you know we can trust her?”

The Boy Who Lived looks at his best mate. “Because she trusted us enough to know who she truly is.” I don’t like them talking about me as if I’m not right here, but I don’t interrupt. “Because she trusted us enough to tell us Voldemort’s plan for her to join the Death Eaters. And if she can trust us in that, we can trust her in this.” His eyes meet mine. _I am an awful person._ “He needed Borgin’s help with something. I don’t know what it was, but he was desperate, even showed Borgin something that terrified him. He said something about a Fenrir Greyback who would be checking on him periodically. Hermione went inside to find out what Draco had been up to, and Borgin became angry. We had to leave.”

Draco had been adamant knowing if I had gotten Bellatrix into the castle. He must be trying to find a way to get them into Hogwarts—and by “them” I believe he wants to get the Death Eaters into the castle. But why would Voldemort want that? Snape—one of his most trusted followers—is still here.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” Harry asks me quietly.

“No.” I have an idea, but I’m not sure about it. And I’m certainly not sure why more Death Eaters would need to be here. What did Bellatrix say to me? Something about someone dying this year… Has Voldemort decided to send his followers to attack Harry while he’s at Hogwarts? What kind of a fool would do such a thing with Albus Dumbledore here? “But I do believe he’s up to _something.”_

Harry looks at Ron and Hermione. “You see! He _is_ doing something!”

“Harry,” Hermione says, “just because she _believes_ —no offense, Charlotte—that doesn’t mean he’s actually up to something.”

“Look at the signs! Malfoy is a Death Eater! Just like his father, right, Charlotte?”

“Draco a Death Eater? I doubt it. Voldemort only allows the best witches and wizards into his Inner Circle. I don’t think Draco fits the bill.” But is that true? Could Draco be a Death Eater? It does make sense that he would be, but I can’t be sure. Snape said nothing about that. Harry turns away from me, obviously frustrated, and I don’t blame him. Even I find myself rather frustrated as well, so I stand, glancing at the staff table to find Snape watching me curiously, and leave the Golden Trio and the Great Hall behind me, making my way to the library.

I throw my legs up onto the chair across the table from me and glance around the library. Only a handful of others are in here, and I take this time, my break before my first class of the day, N.E.W.T. Transfiguration with McGonagall, to read the letters I have received from Fred and Zoe. I open Fred’s first.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_I can’t explain to you how relieved I am that you’re out of Malfoy Manor and are safe. It’s like I can take my first real deep breath in weeks. George says I was too worried, that you can more than watch out for yourself, but can you really blame me for being sick with concern? You were trapped, magicless, with Bellatrix Lestrange. George has since explained to me that it was his feeble attempt to calm me. Didn’t work very well, did it?_

_However, he’s really happy that I can finally devote my full attention to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes rather than constantly thinking up ways to rescue you from the manor. Speaking of the shop, George and I went out to celebrate Filch’s hatred of us and our ingenious products. I’ve sent you one of our Portable Swamps as a greeting to Filch from us. Tell Peeves to direct you to the best place to use it, tell him Fred and George Weasley have sent you. He’ll listen. Just don’t get caught._

_What classes are you taking? I can’t be of much help, George and I hardly scrounged five O.W.L.s together, but you can complain about the workload if you want. Just keep writing me, it doesn’t matter if you think it’s unimportant._

_I know you must simply be aching from how much you miss me, but don’t let that distract you from your work, yeah?_

_Love,  
Fred _

I do miss him, though I would never admit to him just how much. I open the package he sent, smiling at his words. The twins’ Portable Swamp greets me. Hopefully Peeves will be willing to help me. Merlin knows I won’t be able to do this alone.

I reach into my bag and pull out parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink to begin writing my response.

_Dear Fred,_

My smile returns as I write back to him. I tell him how honored I am that he was so worried about me, and I ask him to apologize to George on my behalf. I never meant for my situation—well, my _lie_ of being trapped inside Malfoy Manor—to distract him from his work. Not for the first time I desperately want to tell him the truth, the full truth, but I can’t do it. I am too afraid of what he’ll do.

I quickly try to squash down my ever-rising guilt by changing the subject. Though I slightly fear Peeves’s reaction to me asking for his help, I swear to Fred that I will unleash the Portable Swamp somewhere in the castle where it can annoy Filch the most.

_I’m taking Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy. And don’t worry, I won’t force you and George to help me. Did I tell you that Snape got the DADA post? We’ve had one class, and he’s only tried teaching us nonverbal spells…._

I briefly describe to him what Harry said to Snape, knowing how much he will enjoy hearing about it. Then I take a breath and decide to tell him the truth. Well, one of the truths.

_I’m trying to join the Order of the Phoenix. I’ll come of age at the end of November, and I plan to join. Of course, I’m in a certain amount of danger because of the position I’m in with You-Know-Who, so I’m learning Occlumency. Which works out well for us, because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will not learn of our relationship. I don’t know what I’d do if you were endangered because the Dark Lord read my mind and saw how much I love you._

_I will try not to let the Fred-sized, aching hole in my heart distract me too much. And I implore you to do the same. After all, I can only assume you miss me as much as I miss you._

_Love,  
Charlotte _

By the time I have finished my letter to Fred, I hardly have enough time to stuff the writing materials, as well as the Portable Swamp, into my bag and rush off to McGonagall’s classroom for Transfiguration. Nonverbal spells is the main focus of this class as well, so I don’t really have to put forth that much effort. While Daphne tries in vain to jinx me nonverbally, I try in vain to Conjure something silently.

Beside us, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott (I’m surprised to find him in the class today, but I guess I didn’t pay much attention to the other Slytherins last year, so of course I don’t know which ones were good in Transfiguration, which is something I should probably try to fix this year but I don’t really want to just yet) try to jinx each other silently as well. “I hate this,” Zabini huffs quietly to the three of us.

Nott sighs loudly, then says, “Yeah, I thought it’d be enough to work on this in Professor Snape’s class, but in Transfiguration too?”

“Well, apparently it’s important,” I say to them. “I don’t know. At least it’s the same thing, so homework should be fairly simple, right?”

Daphne frowns. “I suppose you have a point, but it doesn’t make this any better.”

Zabini clenches his teeth together, his wand shaking furiously as he tries to jinx Theodore. He lets out a deep breath, then repeats, “I hate this.”

“It could be much worse,” I try again.

“Can the two of you stop trying to act so positive and rant with me and Nott?”

I laugh in spite of myself. “Fine. Nonverbal spells are dreadful.”

“Damn right.”

“Zabini!” McGonagall snaps.

He ducks his head in an awkward attempt at a silent apology. “Whoops,” he whispers, smiling. A heartbeat later he drops his wand. “I need a break, or I’m going to burst a blood vessel in my brain. Try to jinx me, Nott.”

Daphne lowers her wand and motions for me to start trying to jinx her as well.

“You’re not in Potions,” Zabini says to the two of us.

“I don’t really like it.”

“And I was never that good at it.”

He shrugs. “Makes sense.”

McGonagall walks over toward me and Daphne. “See me after class, Rodgers.”

“Yes, Professor.”

She walks to another pair of students to monitor their progress.

“In trouble, Rodgers?” Nott chuckles.

“Who knows?” I sigh, though I’m fairly certain I’m not in any sort of trouble.

When class finally comes to an end, I wait until all of the other students have left before I approach McGonagall’s desk. “Professor,” I start, “is this going to be another thing about how you don’t want to see me underachieve in your class again?”

She glances at me, and I can almost swear she smiles. “No, Rodgers, this is about your lessons in Conjuration.”

“What…what about them?” I ask, trying to stop the hope rising in my chest.

“I believe you have Thursdays free?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I do not teach a class on Thursdays right after lunch. We can continue your lessons on those days when I can, which I will know the day of and will let you know at breakfast.”

I smile broadly. “Thank you, Professor.”

Her next class begins filing in, and I leave as quickly as I can.


	22. Chapter 22

I’m sitting on the sofa before the fire when my friends finally enter the common room. I had neglected to go to dinner tonight. For whatever reason, I just wanted to be alone. I forgot how busy it is here at Hogwarts, and though it feels nice to be back here, it also feels nice to be alone sometimes. That might be one of the things I miss the most about Spinner’s End—how quiet it was. Even when both Snape and I were working on his potions or eating, it was so quiet compared to the castle.

Daphne plops down beside me and leans against me, then throws her feet across the armrest and props a book on her lap. “Missed you at dinner,” she says casually.

“Oh well.” I pull my legs underneath me while the rest of our friends gather around the sofa. Astoria lifts Daphne’s legs and sits down, then lowers them onto her lap and places her Potions book on Daphne’s shins. Malcolm and Grant sit on the floor in front of us, Grant leaning against the open space on the sofa and Malcolm leaning against Astoria’s legs. They both pull some homework out and begin working on it.

I close my eyes and rest my head back on the sofa.

“The pudding was great,” Daphne adds.

“It’s a shame I missed it.”

“Don’t be too disappointed—I swiped you some biscuits.”

She reaches over her head and hands me two biscuits. A large smile comes to my face. “Thanks.”

At some point I believe I must doze off, because when I check my watch again it’s nearly time for me to go to Snape’s office for our lessons. I gently tap Daphne’s shoulder, and she sits up so that I can get off the sofa with very little resistance. Once I’ve vacated the seat, Grant takes my spot, and she leans back against him.

I leave the common room and make my way to Snape’s office. I knock and wait for permission to enter.

I’m smiling when I enter his office and take my usual seat in front of his desk. He watches me curiously for a brief moment before saying, almost casually, “You seem to be in a better mood today than usual.”

“Is it that obvious?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I got some good news today, is all. Professor McGonagall has agreed to continue our Conjuration lessons. I almost expected us not to be able to, but we can, so it’s been a good day.” My smile just grows wider. “I missed Hogwarts more than I realized. Not that I didn’t enjoy my time at Spinner’s End.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips.

I clasp my hands together. “I’m in a good mood, and I have a good feeling about these lessons. Let’s do this.”

He raises his wand to let me prepare, then casts the spells.

_I’m sitting under a bridge, rain crashing down around me. I pull a holey blanket tighter around myself and stare out at the empty road to my right. I’m almost thirteen._

_A small sound comes from behind me, and I whip my head that way. A small kitten stumbles toward me. It’s soaked, probably having just come in from the rain._

_“Hello,” I say to it. It stops moving and watches me. I look away and lean back against the bridge. A short while later the kitten starts sniffing my hand. I turn to it again. “Hello.” Hesitantly, I pick it up and place it on my lap, then place some of my blanket around it. “We’ll stay warm together.”_

_Snape appears in front of me and crouches down before me. “You cannot let me see this much, Charlotte.”_

_“I know,” the memory me says. “I’m trying to push you out. Why can’t I?”_

_“You must try harder, Charlotte.”_

_I start petting the kitten’s little head. Then I close my eyes and focus as much of my energy as I can into forcing Snape out of my memories. It does not work._

Suddenly I’m awake again, sitting in front of Snape. My brain throbs against my skull. “I don’t understand, sir,” I say quietly, closing my eyes against the pain.

“It simply takes practice.”

I take a deep breath and open my eyes once more. “Okay. Then let’s keep practicing.”

He casts the spells again.

 _I’m fifteen, sitting on a pallet made of blankets in what is obviously a rarely-used shed. I’m eating a sandwich and drinking hot chocolate from a thermos._ I need to get out of this memory immediately. _When I finish the sandwich, I pull one of the blankets around my shoulders and walk to the door. I peer through a crack and look upon a beautiful brick house. A family of three—the mother, the father, and the seventeen-year-old son, Alex—sit in the kitchen eating a meal. I want to be in there. I want to be inside. I want to be a part of the family._

_Snape appears beside me. “When was this?”_

_“The winter before I was caught,” I say, sniffing and rubbing my running nose, then turning my attention back to the house._

_“Make me leave.”_

_“I’m trying.”_

_In the kitchen, the mother and father stand up and begin clearing away the table. Once they’re away from the window, the boy turns to me, looking directly at the shed, and runs his hand through his brown hair. He grins at me and makes a point of folding some of the food into a napkin and sliding it into his pocket._

_“Professor, leave.”_

_“Charlotte—”_

_“Get out! Please, I don’t want you to see this.”_

_“The point is to make—”_

_“Get out!”_

_“You’ll never learn if you don’t force me out.”_

_The backdoor to the house opens, and the boy emerges, still grinning._

_“Get out!”_

_“Charlotte—”_

_“Leave, please! Please just leave! We’ll try again with another memory.”_

_“Force me out.”_

_I turn to him, grab him by the front of his robes, and slam him against the wall. “GET OUT!”_

I open my eyes in Snape’s office, my lungs furiously trying to take in breath. “Before you ask,” he says, his voice smug, “no, you did not manage to force me out of your mind.”

“ _You should’ve listened to me sooner_ ,” I hiss.

“That’s not the point of the exercise.”

I’m on my feet in seconds, my hands coming down on his desk with a pent-up fury I haven’t felt toward him in a long time. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE POINT OF THE EXERCISE! YOU SHOULD’VE LEFT WHEN I TOLD YOU TO!” He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by my anger. “IF THERE’S SOMETHING YOU SHOULDN’T SEE, THEN YOU NEED TO BACK THE FUCK DOWN WHEN I TELL YOU TO!”

“Will the Dark Lord leave your mind because you tell him to? Or will you be forced to kick him out?”

“You’re not the Dark Lord, you’re my”— _he’s not your friend, Charlotte_ —“you’re my professor and I trust you. You should leave those memories when I ask until I am skilled enough to make you leave.” I deflate and land back in my chair.

He watches me for a long moment before saying, “Being able to control your movements so thoroughly within your memories is a step in the right direction.”

This almost brings a smile to my face. “Should we continue?”

He raises his wand again and gives me a second to prepare. Then he casts the spells.

_I’m walking along the road with a kitten on my shoulder—the same kitten from my earlier memory. I reach up and touch its head, then give it a bite of my chips._

_Snape is suddenly walking along beside me. “What happened to the cat?”_

_I look at its little face. “I actually don’t know. I woke up one morning and he was gone. It’s better that way, I suppose. I mean, I couldn’t have provided for it very long.”_

_“You need to force me out of this memory.”_

_“I’ve been trying from the start. I can feel my head throbbing. I just don’t know how.”_

_“Take a deep breath, Charlotte, and then with all the force of your will—I know you have a lot—push me out. Take me elsewhere. I know you can do it.”_

_I close my eyes and take a deep breath, as he commanded, then I let out a scream as I force this memory away._ Only, I don’t take him from my memories altogether. I just take him to another one—one I don’t want him to see. But try as I might to force him out of this one, I can’t do it. I’m too weak.

_I sit at a kitchen table in clothes that obviously aren’t mine. They’re too new and too warm and too big. I’m eating some sort of pasta, and it’s the best thing I’ve had in months. It’s warm and delicious and actually makes me feel comforted._

_Across from me sits the boy from the last memory I didn’t want Snape to see. He’s eating too. And there’s another boy beside him, his closest friend from what I remember. “Eat up, Charlotte,” the friend says. “We’d hate for you to go hungry.”_

_Snape now sits in the chair beside me. “Why would you come back to him?” I ask, my voice sounding pathetic and broken even to me._

_“I didn’t,” he says. “You brought me here.”_

_“Yeah, we gotta make sure you have some energy,” the friend continues._

_“Professor, please leave. I can’t make you do it again—I’m too weak. Please leave.”_

_“Charlotte—”_

_“Please,” I whisper._

I open my eyes in Snape’s office once more and wipe the tears from my cheeks, making a point of not looking at him but rather down at my feet. “Why did I take you there? I didn’t want that,” I say quietly.

He leans back in his chair. “In the learning process, the harder you try to avoid a certain memory, the harder it is to get away from it.”

A ragged breath escapes me, and I pull my legs into the chair with me, my legs against my chest. “Can we take a break?” I ask.

“Yes.” He waves his wand and starts doing something, but I don’t bother to watch him. I just close my eyes, breathe evenly, and refuse to look at him. After a few minutes of this, he says softly, “Did they hurt you, Charlotte?”

I hide my face in my knees. “Yes. Kind of.” I clear my throat and force myself to look at him, my chin on my knees now. “In exchange for food and shelter and water for the duration of his parents’ absence.”

Something akin to pain flashes across his face before he reins it in. “Charlotte…”

“Please don’t pity me.”

“I’m not. I’m angry.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I say weakly. “It was that or suffer out in the cold and—”

“I’m not angry with _you_ , Charlotte. I’m angry with them.”

The look in his eye says that he is very much telling the truth, and I must admit that it feels really nice to have someone this angry on my behalf. Especially about something that has haunted me for years.

“You found a way to survive rather than perish in the cold,” he says finally. “And that’s all that matters.” He motions to the tray in front of him, a distinct sadness in his eyes. “Would you like some tea?”

A smile tugs at my lips, and I drag my chair closer to his desk. “Yes please.” I put some sugar in my cup and stir it around for a minute. “Professor, what made you—what made you switch sides? Why did you defect?”

“I haven’t defected.”

In spite of myself I laugh. “Okay. Whatever. What made you become a double agent for the Dark Lord?”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s unhelpful and vague.” I take a sip of tea and let it warm me for a moment. “Should we continue with the lessons?”

“If you’re prepared.”

“I think I am.” I wipe my face and lean back into my chair. Then I wave at him to continue. He casts the spells.

_I’m seven, at the orphanage, lying in my bed, tears in my eyes as they jerk frantically around the room, looking at the other five beds around me. Something has me spooked, but I can’t really remember what it was. I just see myself horrified, trying to figure out if the other children in the room are awake. Finally I sit up quickly, unsure what to do but certain that I can no longer lie in this bed._

_I slide off the bed and look around suspiciously, trying to make sure that no one else is awake, that no one knows I’m up right now. When no one questions me, I step lightly and make my way to the door._

_“You need to block these memories,” Snape says, now walking beside me._

_My memory self looks up at him but doesn’t speak. What if I woke someone up?_ That’s not how this works, Charlotte. But that doesn’t matter, because even though I can’t remember what has me so afraid, I remember the feeling and cannot bring myself to speak right now. _I just continue walking, then push the door open and step out._

_From down the hall I see the light of a television and head that way._

_“Charlotte.”_

_“I know, I know. I think I wasn’t ready to start this again. I’m tired.”_

_I come upon the room and see Mrs. Stoico watching some movie with one of the other workers. “Charlotte?” she asks when she sees me. “What’re you doing out of bed?”_

_I look over my shoulder before stepping closer to her. “Someone’s after me,” I whisper. “They’re trying to kill me.”_

_“Charlotte, make me leave,” Snape says._

_With as much effort as I can possibly muster, I push Snape out of that memory but once again end up in another memory that I don’t want him to see._

_I’m standing with Alex in the shed at the same house as before._ I have got to stop dwelling on this so much or else it’s going to be the only memory I ever push him into when trying to move him around my mind.

_Alex comes closer to me, smiling. “So my parents are going out of town this week. Dad’s business or something, I don’t know.”_

_“That should be fun for you,” I say, looking back at the house and wondering what it must be like to have something like that all to yourself for a week with no fear that the owner might show up and try to kick you out._

_“Well, I’m telling you, Charlotte, because that means it’ll be easier for me to get food to you.” A smile comes to my lips. “And you won’t have to sleep out in the shed for the week.”_

_Snape now stands beside Alex. “Charlotte.”_

_“I know, I know.” I look back at Alex. “Are you serious? You’ll let me sleep inside?”_

_“In a bed and everything. Warm. Out of the rain and snow. You can be comfortable.”_

_I throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you!” I cry. “Thank you!” I look at Snape once more. “Professor, I need you to leave.”_

_Alex pushes me away from him. “Don’t get too excited,” he says. “I could get into a lot of trouble.”_

_“I appreciate—”_

_“And so you’re gonna have to pay—”_

_“I don’t have any money. You know that.”_

_He grins and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. I try to push Snape from my mind, but instead it just feels like it’s ripping. I almost scream out in pain. “There are other ways you can pay me, you know.”_

_“Professor—”_

_“It could be fun for both of us.” He places his hand on my hip and pulls me closer to him. “Hot meals, a warm bed, a nice shower. It can all be yours. You just have to play nice with me. And maybe a friend or two.”_

_“Professor—”_

_“Or you can go back to living in the cold on the streets.”_

_“Professor—”_

I’m back in Snape’s office, my face hot with embarrassment, my chest heaving with fury. “What the hell, Snape?” I yell. “You—I told you to leave! I asked for your help and you—you did nothing! You just stood there!”

“Charlotte—”

“I trusted you to leave when I couldn’t get you out of memories like that!”

“You could’ve forced me out on your own.”

“NO! No, I couldn’t have! I couldn’t get you out of that memory if my life depended on it! I tried to get you out but instead you went to that memory!”

“Charlotte, lower your voice.”

“No! I trusted you to respect me enough—fuck you! I asked you leave those memories, and instead you stayed. You just wanted more reason to judge me! I can’t believe I actually believed you were—you didn’t care what they did! You don’t know what it’s like! Living in the street, not knowing where your next meal is gonna come from, not knowing if you’ll freeze to death in the night! You stayed so you could see what I did that I didn’t want you to see! I hate you!”

Snape stands to his feet. “Charlotte, you must learn to push me—and the Dark Lord—out of your mind even when you’re at your most vulnerable, when you absolutely do not want him to see what he’s trying to see.”

I try to look him in the eye, but I can’t—I’m embarrassed. I keep my eyes trained on his shelves of potion supplies. “Can we be done for today?” I was in such a good mood earlier, and he’s ruined it. He has absolutely ruined it. I can’t look at him.

“Rodgers—”

“I can’t do this right now, Professor. Please. It’s getting late anyway, right?”

It takes him a short moment—though it feels like hours long—before he agrees. I bolt from his office without looking back or slowing down.

I throw the common room door open and, despite the fact that all of my friends are still awake, storm up to the dormitory, ignoring their confused looks and the sound of them calling my name. With a loud roar I ram my fist into my bedpost, then grunt in pain and cradle my hand against my chest.

Trying to calm myself down, I sit on the foot of my bed, bury my head in my hands, and breathe evenly. This goes on for a few minutes until I hear, “Are you okay?” I look up and see Daphne standing in the doorway to the sixth-year girls’ dormitory. “We saw you come in and—”

“I heard all of you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I flex my aching hand. “Snape’s just being shit.”

“He gives you private lessons?” I nod. “In what?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts.” It’s not a total lie, but oh well. “There are some things in my life that require me to know certain things. He’s teaching them to me.”

“What’s he teaching?”

I just blink at her.

“How’d he upset you?”

“He brought up something personal, and started asking questions, and wouldn’t back down,” I say.

Daphne sits down on her bed, the one next to mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really can’t, actually.” Because she’s around me too much and I don’t know her that well. Zoe’s different because she’s a Muggle-born and is no longer around most of these people anymore. So it’s not like others can find out my secrets or whatever. I mean, they can, but the risk seems smaller when I tell her than it does now that Daphne has offered to be a listening ear. “There are things that won’t let me, you know?”

“I get that.”

It’s quiet for a while, neither of us speaking and instead just letting ourselves enjoy this moment of peace. Then I say, “You don’t have to sit up here. I didn’t mean to drag you away from everyone else.”

She shrugs. “It’s getting late anyway, so why not? I’ll see all of them tomorrow. And no offense to you or anything, but I kind of don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

Laughter escapes me despite my efforts to hold it back.

“And I think you might have broken your hand.”

“It does hurt pretty badly.”

She watches me for a moment. “You know what might do you some good?”

“What?”

“First, we go to Madam Pomfrey and have her fix your hand—because it looks like it needs it. Second, we don’t come back directly after she fixes your hand. Third, we call some house-elves for some food. Then we just wander. We can skip breakfast in the morning.”

“So you just want to wander around the castle, eating food and doing nothing?”

She shrugs. “I’m very good at hiding when professors are coming. The trick is to walk around in the dark. You see their wand light long before they see you. I’ve always done it. I get restless sometimes.”

The idea of not going to bed right now does sound appealing. It’d be nice to just take a break and do something I don’t normally do, especially because I’m too riled up to go to sleep right now anyway.

Daphne grins at me. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? I can see it in your face. C’mon, let’s go.”

“What do we say to Madam Pomfrey when she asks what I did to my hand?”

“You fell and broke it. These stairs around here are very dangerous, you know.”

This pulls a smile to my face, and she knows she’s won. So she stands to her feet, grabs me by the arm, and forces me to my feet. “It’s also very dangerous to walk around in the dark when there’s so much junk around the corridors.”

“Don’t worry, Rodgers, I know this place very well. We just have to watch out for professors wandering around. We should be fine.”

I let her lead me from the dormitory.


	23. Chapter 23

That next morning I make my way to Snape’s office with a heavy heart. Despite how excited I was at the prospect of Conjuration lessons and how I thought nothing could tear that down, he did. By watching me fail repeatedly at Occlumency last night and not leaving the memories that I told him to. I don’t want to try again this morning—I don’t want to see him or spend time with him at all—but I know I have no choice. I know that this is the only way.

But the fact that this is the only way does nothing to alleviate my sour mood as I come to a stop in front of his office. For a brief moment I debate turning around and leaving and accepting my failure, but that makes me feel even more frustrated and angry, so I decided against it. I knock on Snape’s office door.

“Enter.” He waits patiently for me to take the seat across from his desk. We watch each other silently for a few short breaths, a time during which I’m sure he can see the less than thrilled look on my face, before he says, “Our last lesson did not go as well as I had hoped. I’m not even sure you truly attempted to rid me from your—”

“Like I wanted you to see my memories? To see private details of my life?” I ask, doing my best to tamper down the bite in my tone. “Is that what you’re suggesting? Because I could have lived a thousand lifetimes and been fine without you prying into my mind and invading the memories that are mine and mine alone.”

“And how else do you expect to join the Order?” His tone is mocking, and all it does is make me angrier about this whole situation.

“ _I don’t know_.”

I hear him shift in his chair, but I do not look back up at him. “Do you still want to join the Order?”

I cover my face with my hands and put my elbows on my knees. “Of course I want to join the Order.”

He remains quiet.

“I just…I don’t know if I can.”

“Three poor lessons—”

“Three _abysmal_ lessons,” I correct, forcing myself to sit up and look at him, my frustration and anger kind of fading into disappointment.

The corner of his lip turns up in an almost smile. “Three abysmal lessons,” he agrees. “But it’s only a few. You can’t expect to master each new branch of Occlumency that quickly.”

I sigh loudly.

“You have time.” He draws his wand out of his robes. “Now, why don’t you try to stop me from seeing what happened between you and that pack of first-years, as well as what happened between you and Potter’s friends?”

 _At least this morning he’s staying away from my time on the run_ , I think bitterly. He waves his wand at me to put me to sleep once more.

 _I’m in the Great Hall with Astoria, Grant, and Malcolm. The group of first-years approach me._ Try as I might, I cannot wake myself up. _Christopher questions me about tutoring him and the others behind him._ I have to stop Snape this time. I failed before, and now he knows too much about my feelings toward my mother and too many embarrassing and pathetic moments from my life at the orphanage for me to be truly comfortable with him in my mind right now. I don’t want him to be victorious. _I agree to help them with their Transfiguration._ I hear a cruel laugh, and my heart sinks because he has just won again.

I’m pulled forward, now talking to the Golden Trio. I cannot let him go farther. Snape cannot know that Harry suspects Draco, or that I, too, am trying to figure out Draco’s mission for the year.

_“Charlotte?” Hermione asks._

_Snape appears beside me at the Gryffindor table. “Are you even attempting to stop me?”_

_“Of course I am!” my dream-self snaps at him before greeting Hermione._

_“It’s probably not a good idea for a Slytherin to be at the Gryffindor table,” Ron says between his bites of toast._

_“You’re right, of course, but I need to speak with Harry.” My dream-self pulls out her wand and turns to Snape. “_ Protego!”

I jerk awake. Snape is steadying himself on his desk. “Well done. But next time, you should try to stop me earlier.” Before I can reply, he adds, “So you’re going to be helping young first-years with Transfiguration. How very generous of you.”

I bite my tongue. “Unfortunately.”

His eyes dance with a cruel joy at this news. “Again, but this time stop me earlier.”

 _I am walking toward Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. Bellatrix Apparates behind me. I ignore her and continue walking. She grabs me and forcibly Apparates me to a graveyard. Snape is standing beside us._ Why can’t I force him from my mind? _Bellatrix points to my grave._

_“How very touching. Mummy dearest cares for you. That must be such a strange feeling for you.”_

_My dream self once again whips out her wand and aims it at the professor. “_ Protego! _”_

I jolt awake again. Snape seems oddly proud of me, and I feel a surge of satisfaction in my chest. _Is he letting me be somewhat successful so I don’t get so discouraged when I’m completely unable to stop him?_

“The Shield Charm certainly forces me from your thoughts, but I don’t believe the Dark Lord will take too kindly to you using such a spell to expel him from your mind. Actions like that will most definitely raise a few suspicions.”

“So what should I do? I’ve only just been able to get you out of my mind at all.”

“Manipulate your thoughts to change what I see. You’ve done it a number of times while awake. Focus on doing it while you’re asleep.” He makes it sound so simple, and I really hate that. “If you can do it while you’re awake, you can do it while you’re asleep. Ready?” I nod.

 _I am walking to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade._ Does he expect me to manipulate this memory? He’s already seen it, so what’s the point? _Bellatrix Apparates behind me._ I guess it’s worth a shot. _I turn around and pull out my wand. Bellatrix forcibly takes me to a graveyard. I cast a spell at her, but it goes straight through her. She tells me to be safe because someone is to die at Hogwarts this year. I cast another spell at her, this time managing to hit her and throw her backward. Then I turn to Snape again. “_ Protego!”

I jerk awake once more. Snape is staring at me. “If you plan to fool the Dark Lord, you must get better, Charlotte,” he says softly. “You cannot expect to deceive him with what you have just shown me.”

“But I had my wand in the memory, and I didn’t have it when that actually happened,” I point out.

He watches me for a moment; then he narrows his eyes. “That’s right,” he admits, almost begrudgingly. “It’s that easy to manipulate your thoughts, Charlotte. Now you just need to do that very thing on a larger scale.” He raises his wand at me. “Again.”

 _I am walking to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. Bellatrix Apparates behind me. I scream at her to leave, but she doesn’t. Instead she grabs me and takes me to the graveyard. I shout at her again before hitting her with a spell that throws her backward. I aim my wand at Snape. “_ Protego! _”_

Snape is leaning back into his chair when I open my eyes. “Better,” he says, “but you need to force me from your thoughts without shouting a spell at me.”

“Again,” I say to him. I _will_ master Occlumency. I _will_ join the Order of the Phoenix.

He looks at the clock on the wall. “Our lessons for now are over. We will continue again this evening.”

I nod, not really wanting to stop right now, but I stand anyway and leave in silence.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, really, mostly because nothing matters right now beyond my Occlumency lessons this evening with Snape. I go to class, the Owlery, the Great Hall, the common room. I wander around the castle grounds during my breaks. By the time I’m sitting on the floor by the fire in the Slytherin Dungeon with Daphne, Astoria, Grant, and Malcolm—the pack of first-years sitting just an arm’s length away as if they are unsure whether they are allowed to sit with us or not—all I want to do is go to Snape’s office for my lessons. _I have to master Occlumency and join the Order of the Phoenix, and waiting around in the common room is not helping me._

“Charlotte, are you listening?” Malcolm’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I stop fiddling with a loose string on the sofa and look up at him.

“Of course I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, grinning.

I smile, hoping they can’t see how forced it is. “Right. Sorry. I wasn’t. I’m distracted.”

“You’ve been that way all day,” Daphne says. “What’s going on in our dear Charlotte’s head?” I glance over at the first-years. “Later, then. You don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Don’t stop on our account,” Christopher says, not even bothering to look up.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Collins,” I say back. “I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing myself for the sake of the four of you.”

He glances at me, grinning. “And yet you seem to be doing that very thing right now. You’re not telling your friends something because we’re sitting here. Isn’t that inconveniencing yourself?”

“No, it’s inconveniencing them. Not myself.”

“She has a point,” Daphne sighs, falling heavily against the back of the sofa. “I’m dying to know what’s going on, and I can’t because of you little shits.”

“We can leave,” Julia says quietly, looking up at me with wide, slightly scared eyes.

I whack Daphne’s leg; she winks at me in response. “Don’t listen to her. You’re fine. Besides, I’m running low on time anyway.” I turn my attention completely to Daphne, who grins down at her hands when our eyes meet. “Apologize to them.”

“Look at you,” Christopher says. “Your conscience actually is growing. I thought it was just a momentary type of thing when you released that poor girl from the spells the other day. I’m so very proud of you.”

Daphne pats my leg. “She’s growing. And it’s all thanks to you first-years. Merlin knows Astoria and Zoe and I couldn’t get to her last year.”

“Oh, shut up.” I pull out my pocket watch. I have twelve minutes before I have to be in Snape’s office.

“She’s trying so hard to avoid acknowledging it,” Grant laughs.

“All right, I’ve got to go. I have lessons to get to.” I push myself to my feet.

“Good luck,” a few of them chime after me as I make my way to the door.

The door has just closed behind me when someone grabs me by the arm, leads me to an open room, and swings me inside. “Charlotte,” Draco says coldly.

“Draco,” I say just as rudely, jerking my arm away from him. His constantly-changing tones toward me are beginning to irritate me. I never know if he’ll be upset with me for some reason or if he’ll be willing to somewhat help me as he had done in Malfoy Manor that day.

“What was so important that you were at the Gryffindor table with Potter yesterday?” he says tightly.

“I don’t think that’s any of _your_ business, do you? That’s what I thought. I’m glad that’s settled. Excuse me now.” I try to get around him, but he grabs me by my upper arms and shoves me back against the wall, holding me there tightly with his body. I try to struggle, but I’m trapped. “Let go of me.”

Draco lowers his face down to mine and breathes, “You’re not the only person inside these walls who is important to the Dark Lord.” He puts his nose against mine and continues, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “Charlotte, please.” He closes his eyes. “Tell me what you know.”

I swallow, unsure how to handle this situation. After a moment I decide to be blunt. “Who is going to die this year, Draco?”

His grip tightens on me, and I gasp in pain. “How do you know about that?”

“I—”

“Mr. Malfoy!” Snape’s irritated voice saves me from having to say anything at all.

Draco growls as he completely releases me and steps away to face the professor who is now standing in the room I had been dragged to just moments ago. “Professor,” my cousin says. “What can I do for you?”

Snape glowers at the Malfoy boy and asks, a hint of fury in his voice, “What were you doing to Miss Rodgers?”

“It’s a private manner,” Draco spits, pushing past Snape and out of the room, vanishing down the corridor before Snape can say another word.

The professor turns to me, and I close my eyes, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm my racing heart. “Are you—”

“I just need a minute,” I whisper.

He watches for a long moment, a strange yet familiar look on his face. “You have five.” He swoops out of the room, closing the door as he exits.

With one more breath, deciding it’s best not to think about what just happened—Draco’s fear and anger and what he might be trying to do that would cause him to feel that way—I follow Snape’s lead and head toward his office. Once I’ve closed the door and taken my seat across from his desk, he straightens and watches me closely. “Are you going to tell me what just happened? Or am I going to need to use Legilimency?”

I sigh and lean back in the chair, stretch my legs and cross my ankles, and fold my arms together. “He wanted to know…” If I tell Snape that Draco is trying to find a way to bring the Death Eaters into the school, he might try to help him. And that means Draco might be successful before Christmas. Which means… _no, I will not be enslaved this soon._ “He wanted to know why I was speaking with Harry and his friends yesterday.”

Snape seems unconvinced. “I’m giving you the chance, Charlotte, to tell me what happened before I take matters into my own hands.”

“And you believe you will be successful in penetrating my mind?”

He smirks, looking almost proud. “You clearly believe yourself more capable than you are. Need I remind you of the three rather abysmal lessons you had?”

“I have a good teacher. I’m hoping your skills rub off on me.”

Snape shifts. “What did Malfoy say to you?”

“Well, he sure didn’t tell me who is going to die this year,” I say bitterly. He should know that I am aware of what’s going on.

“What makes you think someone will die this year?”

“Bellatrix,” I say, glad to finally be admitting all of this. “When she found me making my way to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. She told me that I had to be careful because of it.” I meet his eyes, ignoring his frustrated glare. “Who is it?”

He frowns at me. “What did Draco say?”

I clear my throat, regretting my lie from just a moment ago. Perhaps it is best that Snape knows what Draco is trying to do. I don’t want Draco punished—or worse, killed—for being unable to complete his mission. “Well, he…this is the second time that he’s tried to get information from me. The first was when he just got back to Hogwarts. I think…I think the Dark Lord knows about Bellatrix coming to find me. Anyways…he just kept asking me...he wanted to know how I had gotten Bellatrix into the castle walls. He was…desperate—to say the least—to know how I had done it.”

“And did you tell him?” Snape asks quietly.

“No. I didn’t get Bellatrix into Hogwarts, so I didn’t know what he wanted me to know.”

He nods but doesn’t speak, his eyes in a distant land, probably trying to piece together the information I’ve given him with the information he probably already has.

“Professor,” I say gently. He looks over at me, and for a moment I almost believe he’ll tell me what I want to know. “Who…who’s going to die?”

“The Dark Lord has strictly forbidden me from speaking of it.”

“And since when do you do what the Dark Lord requires of you?”

“Just know this: The wizard in charge has everything planned out.”

“And ‘the wizard in charge’ is who? Because Vol—the Dark Lord, please don’t yell at me about that again—is in charge of the Death Eaters and other dark wizards, but Dumbledore is over the Order of the Phoenix and those against the Dark Lord.”

“I cannot say. Trust me, Charlotte. Everything will be fine.”

“Trust you? Professor, I like to think I can, but…you’re a master of Occlumency, sir, so how can I really believe anything you tell me?”

“Because you have no choice.” A short silence descends upon us, and I tear my eyes away from him, now looking at my hands again because I cannot bear to meet his gaze right now. I hear him take a breath, but he doesn’t speak for another few minutes. And when he finally does speak, his voice is quiet and imploring. “If Draco says anything else, I need you to tell me, Charlotte. I need to know what he’s planning on doing.”

“I doubt if he’ll say anything.” My gaze meets his black eyes again. “He says he has to restore the Malfoy name.”

Snape looks at his clock. “We’ve wasted nearly twenty minutes.”

“So let’s not waste anymore on Draco.”

The corner of his lip twitches, almost as if he thought about smiling but decided not to. “I’m sure you are aware that you must once again attempt to expel me from your mind without using the Shield Charm?”

“I wouldn’t be in here if I wasn’t.”

This time he actually manages a smirk before aiming his wand at me.

A failure. I am a complete failure. Snape far too easily navigated his way through my mind while I hopelessly tried to force him out without using the Shield Charm. I have just under three months to learn Occlumency proficiently before I can join the Order of the Phoenix, and at this rate, I will not be able to accomplish that. With a loud, frustrated sigh, I enter the Slytherin Dungeon. The first-years are gone. Astoria and Daphne are nowhere to be found. Grant and Malcolm left the common room ages ago.

I didn’t really want to retreat to the dormitory just yet to sleep, but it seems I currently have no choice. I’m almost to the steps when I hear quick footsteps behind me, followed by Draco jumping in front of me so I cannot escape to my bed. “Not right now, please,” I say.

He watches me suspiciously. “Since when are you and Snape on good terms?”

“Since when do you care?”

“I never stopped caring, Charlotte. I just…learned to care differently.”

“And by that you mean ‘I’m an arse to you, Charlotte, because I couldn’t care for you the way I wanted to.’ Leave me be, Draco. I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with you right now.”

“I’m not an arse to you,” he argues. “I remember giving you my wand when you needed to go see that Mudblood Accring—”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Why else would I have given it to you?”

“Because you pity me. Now let me go to my room.”

Draco refuses to move. “You don’t understand what’s going on this year. I need you to tell me what you know about—”

“ _She never stepped foot onto the grounds_ ,” I hiss at him. “ _How many times must I tell you that?_ She. Never. Stepped. Foot. On. The Hogwarts. Grounds.”

He hangs his head and whispers, “And you’d tell me if she had?”

“Currently? I doubt it.”

“What’s Snape been teaching you?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Charlotte.” His gray eyes are pleading and sorrowful. “If I have to lie, I need to know what I’m lying about.”

“Who are you lying to?” I laugh.

“Bellatrix, for one. Surely she’ll be interested in her daughter being taught by Professor Snape.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, but if she asks, I need to know what I should and should not say.”

“Dumbledore asked him to teach me. Don’t worry about it. Say you know nothing. Now, let me by.” I take a step, but he throws his arm out to stop me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Draco, but I will.”

“Hey, Charlotte!” Draco and I both turn to see Daphne approaching us, a wide smile on her face. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“You can’t have been looking too hard,” Draco sneers at her.

“What is it?” I ask, colder than I meant to.

Daphne doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, she smiles. “I was wondering if you could help me with my Transfiguration homework seeing as you are doing much better in that class than I am currently. I’m struggling.”

I close my eyes, thanking everything good in the world that Daphne decided to appoint me her go-to friend for problems with Transfiguration. “Sorry, Draco, I really should help her with this. It’s due tomorrow.”

My cousin frowns at me. “We’re not finished.” Then he looks at Daphne. “Greengrass. Rodgers.” Draco walks away, going up the steps to the boys’ dormitory.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “What’s the assignment?” I ask.

Daphne simply shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really have any homework to finish.”

“Then why—”

She glances away. “I noticed you weren’t back yet, so I thought I’d sneak out and try to find you. Saw you trying to get away from Malfoy. I thought, why not help her out?” She adds with a wink, “Be a knight in shining armor for a beautiful maiden.”

Despite myself, my cheeks grow warm. “Merlin, shut the fuck up. C’mon, let’s get some rest.” We retreat to the dorm together.


End file.
